


One's an Inquisitor, the other a Champion

by SerChristoph



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, Drama & Romance, F/F, Fun, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 72,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerChristoph/pseuds/SerChristoph
Summary: Times are grim after the destruction of Haven. Inquisitor Herah Adaar needs all the aid she can get. Marian Hawke readily answers the call, but can she overcome her prejudices for the sake of the Inquisition, for all of Thedas and maybe even for herself? (FAdaar / FHawke)   Complete.





	1. First Impressions

**First Impressions**

“Your Inquisitor!”

Cullen’s call and the cheers of hundreds of men and women still rang in Herah Adaar’s ears. The newly anointed Inquisitor still had a hard time believing that was her new title, despite that it had been near a full day since being appointed the formal leader of the Inquisition. She doubted she’d ever get used to it. Despite her fears though, she was eager to get to work.

Gazing up at the great castle of Skyhold now, the enormity of the challenge that awaited her settled uncomfortably on her shoulders. A ragtag collection of soldiers, workers and servants scurried around her to and fro as they worked about the fortress. Supplies were being apportioned, weapons stockpiled and repairs were being made. It was barely organised chaos. For so many decades and centuries the mountain fortress had been lying dormant, now Skyhold was a hive of activity. The re-emergence of the Herald of Andraste had rallied the weary pilgrims and now they worked with renewed vigour. Everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing, where they were going. Herah envied their certainty.

As the qunari walked up to the great hall of Skyhold, she was bewildered by all the commotion. When each of the soldiers and workers passed by the sole qunari in the room, they quickly bowed their heads and murmured ‘Inquisitor’ her way, far too busy for a formal greeting. It was just another thing she doubted she’d ever get used to.

“Inquisitor!” One call rang loud over all the others. The qunari raised her head in response to see the hooded Leliana beckoning the grey skinned woman from the other end of the hall. Herah made her way over, awkwardly weaving and sidestepping her way through the mass of people.

Herah greeted the Spymaster with a nod. “What is all this madness?” She gestured at the throng of people buzzing around her.

The redhead responded with a slight smile, “This is merely preparation Inquisitor. There is much to be done if we are to make this our new home and base of operations.”

Herah merely shook her head absently as she watched them go about their duties. She’d never seen people so thoroughly focussed on their work like this. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not with this sort of work I think, Inquisitor. Though having the Herald of Andraste hammer together door and platforms could make for quite the image, no?” Leliana chuckled.

“If that’s what needs to be done then-”

“No, Inquisitor,” the Spymaster cut off the qunari with a humoured smile, “no I think you could be of better use elsewhere. Remember that friend of Varric’s he mentioned when we first arrived here? I hear that he has managed to bring them to Skyhold.”

“You hear? Surely you already know who they are, where they are and how long they’ve been here.”

“Of course.” Leliana smiled sweetly. “They are up on the battlements now if you wish to make introductions. I believe that it would be beneficial for the Inquisition if the Inquisitor herself were to make our new guest welcome, no?”

Herah nodded along with a sigh, already growing weary of her official duties as Inquisitor. She was a warrior, not a diplomat. “Alright, is there anything I need to know about them first?”

“Nothing that warrants concern. Besides, you won’t always have my reports at your disposal. I think it might be beneficial if you learn to deal with such situations going in blind, so to speak.”

“Very well, I’ll go introduce myself.” The qunari sighed again. Glad to have something to keep her mind busy at least. She raised a hand as a half-hearted wave as she made to leave the Spymaster.

The Inquisitor managed to squeeze her way out of the throng of busy workers and stepped out before the proud towers of the great fortress. It really was a sight to behold. The grand mountain stronghold of Skyhold was as breath-taking as it was remote. Hidden amongst the snow-capped peaks between Orlais and Ferelden, the fortress somehow seemed to survive amidst its frozen surroundings with its own little temperate ecosphere. Though the fortress had certainly seen better days and could use a fair amount of care and attention, it was more than suitable for their needs. Herah reckoned there was enough space to house all the Inquisition’s troops and room to store months’ worth of supplies. Better yet, it was perched in a strong, defensible position, able to withstand the sort of assault that a pretender god could throw at them.

She hoped.

It had been a blessing to stumble across Skyhold, especially when the Inquisition was on its knees after the blow of losing Haven. Though it had happened in a manner no one would want to repeat, gaining the mountain fortress was quite the upgrade from the frozen village of Haven. Since Corypheus’ attack on the fledgling Inquisition, they had not only survived their trek through the mountains, they were thriving. Gaining a new base and home, new materials and weapons and, most importantly, new people. They seemed to stream in all the time, more and more pilgrims eager to lend their aid to the Herald and her allies, however best they could.

Herah narrowed her brows slightly as she looked up to the battlements, spying a pair of figures overlooking the fortress. According to Varric, this new recruit was supposedly someone who could prove particularly valuable in their fight against the ancient magister. At least, that’s what the dwarf had promised. Despite that it was he himself who had brought the matter up, Varric had been rather reluctant to mention his allegedly _oh-so-helpful_ friend, of that Herah was certain. The Inquisitor had noticed how the typically suave dwarf kept his voice low and cast his gaze about nervously, as if on the lookout for any dragons hiding behind the tapestries. She also noticed that he had taken a roundabout route to the battlements. A route that kept him out of a certain Seeker’s reaches primarily. Questioning Cassandra had earned little clues, except that the Seeker was highly suspicious of Varric’s behaviour, more so than she normally was. Her voice had been low and her eyes dangerous. The qunari had almost heard teeth grinding in rage. Eager not to be on the receiving end of the human woman’s ire, Herah had hastened a retreat to find the troublesome dwarf herself.

Climbing the steep stone steps atop the battlements, Herah pondered for a moment whether she should arrange some sort of security detail for the dwarf. Just as a precaution in case the Seeker’s rage tipped over the edge, swiftly followed by Varric himself. Whoever it was Varric wanted to introduce to the Inquisitor couldn’t be that bad, surely? Herah took a deep breath to prepare herself for politicking as she made her way to her first official duty as Inquisitor.

Arriving at the platform, Herah was greeted by the dwarf at the centre of all this confusion and the armoured back of a human figure, gazing out over Skyhold.

“Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.” Varric offered with an unceremonious wave of his hand and a vague smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The human lazily spun around to face Herah. The other woman certainly stood every inch a Champion, with a confidant bearing, toned arms visible beneath her sharp, black armour and a warrior’s physique. Sharp black hair cut short about her regal face. Crystal cut blue eyes burned into the Inquisitor. Herah couldn’t decide if the Champion was glaring daggers and demons at her or if it was merely the natural intensity of the other woman. Either way, there was clearly something innately remarkable about her, which Herah doubted was all down to the lofty title of Champion alone. Gazing upon the rather striking human now, Herah could easily believe some of the wild and fanciful stories she’d heard passed around the taverns and highways of the land.

“Though I don’t use that title much anymore.” Hawke corrected the dwarf with a humourless smirk, crossing her arms irritably. Her icy gaze glanced over Herah once more for merely the briefest of moments before her attention averted to the side.

Something of a chill swept over Herah, she wasn’t sure if it was due to the wind that gusted about the ramparts or not. Clearly something was off here. Some sort of underlying tension gripped the air.

Varric however seemed completely unaware of anything amiss, “Hawke, the Inquisitor. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus.”

Hawke scowled at mention of the magister’s name, more so than before. With what appeared to be great reluctance, she began her tale or how and what she knew of the ancient Magister. As it turned out, Corypheus was an old acquaintance of the Champion, and of Varric. Hawke told Herah of everything she had been through in that prison under the Vimmark Mountains. A wild, almost fanciful tale of the ancient Magister locked away in a Grey Warden prison, seemingly killed by the Champion yet now was resurrected to haunt Thedas.

Herah wouldn’t have believed a word of it had she not faced the would-be god in person merely days prior.

The Champion’s gaze was dark, sober and serious as she spoke of the Magister and Herah believed every word. The human even promised to help the Inquisition rid the world of the monster, though she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Maybe that wasn’t it, but there was clearly something that was displeasing the Champion so earnestly. Maybe Herah was simply misreading her. The qunari didn’t have an awful lot of experience dealing with humans after all, other than as opponents on a battlefield.

Perhaps she was bad at reading dwarves as well. Varric seemed completely oblivious to the strange tension that undercut their conversation, but Herah was certain that something was amiss, some halla in the room. It was like there was something she was not aware of that the other two understood wordlessly. This shouldn’t have surprised her where the silver tongued dwarf was concerned, the qunari thought with a mental eye roll.

Once the Champion was done with her tale, the human turned on her heel to leave. Briskly bidding the Inquisitor farewell with a clipped nod, she attempted to brush past the qunari.

“Hold a moment.” Herah called out. The human woman stopped mid step, not turning around. “Hawke, is it?” The qunari questioned with narrowed eyes.

The Champion slowly turned to face the Inquisitor. Though she was still scowling there was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. _Was that amusement, or something else?_

“Is there anything else you need, _Inquisitor_?”

The stress she put on ‘Inquisitor’ told Herah everything she needed. That and the fact that Varric had audibly sighed and rubbed at his in exasperation face at the same time. It was the qunari’s turn to scowl now, taking a step towards Hawke and crossing her powerful arms as she did. The human woman was engulfed in Herah’s shadow, highlighting the difference in size between human and qunari, though she wasn’t even attempting to stand over the Champion … much.

“If you have a problem with me personally, I’d like to hear it.” Herah’s voice low.

To her credit, the human woman didn’t back away. Hawke narrowed her eyes at the Inquisitor, whether in warning or making an appraisal, Herah couldn’t say.

“I don’t know you well enough for that Inquisitor, but I know your kind.” The Champion commented slowly, with a deliberate, pointed glance at Herah’s horns.

Varric put his hands up with a pained expression, apparently trying to silently urge the Champion to back off. Hawke was having none of it however.

“Qunari, or Tal Vashoth or whatever you call yourself, I’ve seen what your kind do to the people of Thedas. It always ends in blood. Anyone who can’t defend themselves are either killed or indoctrinated.”

 _Ah, so that was it_ , Herah thought with a sigh, _another bigoted fool_.

She rubbed at her eyes a moment. Why must humans be so suspicious and judgemental? It was something she had experienced all her life, ever since she was a young girl. A tall, grey skinned girl with stumps for horns, living in a world full of humans. She shouldn’t have been surprised, even fabled heroes like the Champion were just people and plenty of people held such petty views. It was always the same, no matter where in Thedas she went.

“I’m no qunari, not in the eyes of the Qun at the very least. They’d sooner kill me than break bread.” Herah stated calmly, raising her eyes to look directly into Hawke’s. “I don’t know what your experience with Tal Vashoth is, and frankly I don’t care, but I’m no monster.” Despite the calmness of her words, Herah’s eyes burned with intense fire.

The human looked away and rubbed at her eyes wearily. “Maybe not,” Hawke said and with a sigh turned back to the qunari, gaze still fierce, “I’m not blind, I’ve heard good things about you, and I know you have your merchants and traders and … everything, just like the rest of the world.”

Herah said nothing, awaiting the inevitable ‘ _But_ ’.

“But when your kind picks up a sword, blood is spilt. A lot of it, usually innocent blood.”

Herah could see the anguish in Hawke’s blue eyes. She was willing to wager that those eyes had certainly seen a lot. Herah decided to ignore that little detail.

“And what of humans and elves, even dwarves?” The qunari jerked her horns sideways at Varric who looked like he wanted nothing more than to dissolve into the air and float away, “Bloodshed isn’t the sole province of qunari. These lands have seen many ages of barbaric conflict before my kind ever set foot here.” Herah spat sharply.

She wasn’t even sure why she was even bothering to trade words with this human, there were thousands more just like the bigoted woman, and it wasn’t like anything Herah said or did would change the Champion’s views. As Inquisitor, Herah needed Hawke’s sword, nothing more.

_Maybe not even that._

Hawke raised a hand in concession, “Maybe so, but can you honestly say that the qunari, or Tal Vashoth, have ever been peaceful when it comes to the rest of Thedas? I was in Kirkwall, I’ve fought countless qunari – and Tal Vashoth – who threatened the people there. Many of them have claimed to want peace, yet look how that tuned out. You yourself are a warrior, a mercenary right? How many have you killed for precious coin?”

Herah scowled irritably at that. In truth, the grey skinned woman couldn’t really deny the Champion’s words. As the Champion said, she’d been a mercenary from long before the sky was torn asunder. She’d known of a handful of qunari who were scholars or merchants, or even simple farm hands, but they were in the stark minority to those who shed blood for a living. Herah chewed on that thought for a moment, her anger and frustration at the human woman’s words only grew.

The Champion sighed and rubbed at her eyes, when she opened them again her scowl had receded. “If nothing else …” The human paused, seemingly making an effort to search for the right words, “You’re capable. Take it as a compliment.” Hawke seemed to smirk at that.

“A compliment? You think calling me a murderer, raider and Maker knows what else is a compliment?” Herah questioned with a quizzical eyebrow, anger unbalanced by the human’s sudden change of tack.

Varric had seemingly abandoned trying to break things up and was silently face palming to the side of the two warriors.

“No, I mean- Just look at you! You’re solid muscle!” Hawke gestured to Herah’s imposing form with enthusiasm. “If you’re half as good as Varric’s told me then you’ll cut down all of Corypheus’ forces and anything else in your way! If you aren’t a raider, you could seriously make a killing in that line of work.” She finished with something of a humoured smile.

 _Was that a compliment?_ The qunari was momentarily frozen by the sudden and puzzling change in the human’s behaviour. Moments ago the dwarf was trying to calm things down, now, Varric was struggling not to chuckle. Herah for the life of her couldn’t see anything funny about the situation.

“You’re suspicious of all qunari … just because we’re strong?” Herah probed slowly, more bewildered than angry now by the absurdity of the human’s comments.

“No just- Just call it me being cautious.” Hawke continued, “You’re the head of the Inquisition. You command an army that could challenge nations. Anyone with that kind of power needs to be watched, for the good of everyone.” The Champion sighed again and went to lean on the wall of the tower, overlooking the courtyard below.

“And because I’m a dreaded Tal Vashoth, I need to be watched more thoroughly, is that right?” Herah ground out irritably.

There was a long, telling pause before the Champion answered. “Varric tells me you’re different, and I’m willing to trust him.” Hawke said, much more conciliatory. Perhaps the human regretted her outburst, though Herah couldn’t tell for certain. “I hope you prove him right.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you.” Herah growled in irritation, making to move past her. She was done with this. She’d heard everything she needed.

Hawke smirked at that, a full bodied smirk that got under the qunari’s skin. “Good.” Was all she said in reply, humour twinkling in her clear blue eyes again.

Herah ignored her and carried on her way, throwing Varric a quick sceptical look before she left the battlements. She had barely reached the stairs before she heard a call behind her.

“It’s Marian by the way, Marian Hawke.”

Herah turned to face the Champion, she was smirking again, though her eyes were not angry this time, more … teasing perhaps? Or maybe mocking? _Is that a human thing?_ She narrowed her own eyes a little in annoyance before continuing down the stairs, wondering whether she’d ever understand humans.

xxx

Marian watched the Inquisitor stride down the stairs with the bearing of a seasoned warrior. The grey skinned woman was certainly not human, more alien than dwarves or elves. That had set the Champion’s nerves on edge a little. Yet there was something else about the Inquisitor that had struck Hawke as particularly noteworthy, she just couldn’t put her finger on it yet. From first glance she could tell that the qunari was a formidable fighter. Unafraid of putting her blade to use, Marian reckoned. She was half surprised, and a little disappointed, that their little spat hadn’t ended in drawn swords. There was always next time.

“Hey!” Varric hit Hawke on the arm a little harder than she felt was strictly necessary, drawing her attention away from the horned woman. The dwarf raised a stern finger. “What was that all about? You told me you’d play nice.”

The Champion huffed off his concern. “We didn’t stab each other did we?” She commented with an easy smirk, casually leaning back against the tower walls.

Varric sighed in exasperation. “Maker’s balls, Hawke. Like I told you, the Inquisitor’s good people. She’s not like the Arishok and all the other horns we fought back in Kirkwall trust me.”

Now it was the human’s turn to sigh. “I know, I know, you already told me. Can’t blame me for being careful now can you? You know how much trouble the qunari were in Kirkwall. In case you haven’t noticed we never run into any qunari who aren’t psychotic or brainwashed do we?” Marian looked straight into Varric’s eyes, there was no small amount of disapproval there. “You want me to apologise don’t you?”

The dwarf only answered with a pointed look.

The human sighed again. “Fine, I guess I could cut her some slack.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Varric replied with a small smile then all of a sudden his smile gave way to a grim, worried expression. “Look, you know what we’re up against. The Inquisitor might be our best shot at this.”

Marian feigned a shocked expression. “Why Varric, have you no faith in the Champion anymore?” She commented, only half joking.

“I’m serious Hawke, what the Inquisitor’s done since she walked out the fade … well, I think even you would have a hard time topping it all.”

The Champion regarded Varric carefully. “You really believe in her, don’t you?” She muttered quietly. “That she’s the Herald of Andraste and all those stories.”

The dwarf chuckled again and rubbed at the back of his head. “Shit, I don’t know about all that, but she’s damn good at achieving the impossible.” He turned a glinting eye to the Champion. “She’s a lot like you really. You’d probably get along really well if you gave her a chance.”

Marian laughed at that. “So, you suggest that we bond over killing giant monsters?” She paused for a moment in thought. “I’m game.”

“There you see, you’ll be friends in no time.” Varric asserted with a smirk giving a playful punch to the arm. “Just make sure to only stab the monsters that don’t walk on two legs, wear armour and go around closing fade rifts.”

The Champion chuckled and turned back to look over Skyhold. She eyed the Inquisitor in the yard below, conversing with the Seeker Cassandra. The grey skinned woman seemed to still be angry, judging by her body language, or maybe she was always like that. The qunari certainly wasn’t what Marian feared she would find in Skyhold.

Though to be honest, it would have been a bit of a stretch to find a mad qunari warlord who drank the blood of her enemies, whilst cackling maniacally.

“I’ll admit,” Marian started while watching the qunari idly, “she’s more impressive than I’d have thought. Kind of like how the Arishok was compared to the rest of his men. Only, she’s different somehow, maybe even more of a warrior than the Arishok was. Maybe even more of a threat.”

Varric merely grunted noncommittedly in reply. Hawke could practically feel the roll of his eyes, even without looking at him.

Still watching the Inquisitor from her perch, Marian noted the woman’s horns, which swooped back then up in an elegant curve, shepherding a rough wave of white hair that was tied in a loose ponytail at the back, the sides of the qunari’s head were shaved close, giving the grey skinned woman something of a wild, tribal look. That rough look was tempered somewhat by the proud strength of the qunari’s posture. Even without the height of her race and horns, Marian would have wagered that the qunari could practically stand head and shoulders above anyone else through sheer determination.

“Those horns do look kind of cool though.” The Champion commented with an idle smile.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Varric remarked, tension filling his voice.

Brow furrowed in confusion, Marian turned to see her companion quickly making his way to the stairs.

“In a hurry?” The Champion called after him, one eyebrow rose questioningly. The dwarf was suddenly acting suspicious.

“Yeah, I’ve just gotta see a thing about a guy.” Varric rushed out before turning tail and making for the stairs as fast as his stout legs could carry him.

Marian watched him go, none the wiser as he rushed along the battlement walls. Shrugging it off as a dwarven thing, Marian turned back to Skyhold. It was an impressive fortress, even more impressive that it had apparently been abandoned for centuries. Something didn’t seem quite right about that. It was a perfectly serviceable fortress, if it had been known about before now it would have likely been fought over by Orlais and Ferelden. Some sort of powerful magic must be at play here.

The Champion was interrupted in her musings by some sort of exasperated huff from behind her, more of a growl really. She turned her head to find the Seeker, Cassandra standing before her, gazing at her, or glaring at her might have been more accurate. Fists clenched and scowl in place, the other woman did not appear happy.

“Can I help you?” Marian slowly offered, turning to fully face the Seeker. The other woman was clearly enraged by something. _I haven’t done anything to deserve this have I?_

“I’m going to ring that little bastard’s neck.” The Seeker growled, more to the ground than Marian. At least she hoped that was the case, the woman before her was certainly intimidating. She was practically hear the grinding of teeth whilst the Seeker glared furiously at the stone floor.

“Do you … need a hand with that?” The Champion slowly offered, still none the wiser.

“No, thank you.” Cassandra turned back to regard Marian again. “It’s enough that you are here Champion, _finally_.” She finished with a growl. With that she stomped off.

“Err, happy to be of assistance!” Marian called after the Seeker. The angry woman didn’t appear to hear her and continued on her warpath. She nearly knocked a poor soldier over the side of the battlements in her haste.

The Champion shook her head in amusement. What a strange bunch Varric had found himself.

 _Just like old times_. She thought to herself with a smirk.


	2. Making Friends

**Making Friends**

“She’s insufferable. A bigoted fool.” Herah Adaar snarled in irritation as she paced around Josephine’s office.

The Ambassador merely stood in front of her desk, hands on hips while a fresh sigh escaped her lips. She’d never seen the qunari quite so irate before, the Inquisitor was normally even tempered, even in the face of extreme peril. Josephine silently wondered how long this ‘issue’ would take, she had much work to be done after all.

“Why on earth Cassandra thought she would make a good ally is beyond me.” The qunari continued. “She never takes anything seriously.” She scoffed in annoyance but didn’t elaborate further, instead opting to pace more furiously.

The Antivan rubbed at her eyes delicately as she thought of how to calm the qunari, the subject of the Champion was evidently a sore one. Had she just been another of the Inquisition’s foot soldiers then there wouldn’t have been much of a problem. Her views on the horned race wouldn’t present a significant issue. There were plenty of the Inquisition’s soldiers that likely held such views after all, and they could be kept in line purely by making them too busy with vital work to think of anything else.

As it was, they needed Marian Hawke as a close ally to the upper echelons of the Inquisition. The Champion had not only fought with Corypheus before and emerged victorious – in a sense at least – she was a warrior of no small amount of skill and, most importantly of all to the Ambassador, an alliance between the Inquisition and the fabled Champion of Kirkwall would be of great help indeed in establishing the Inquisition as a legitimate force.

Which was why Josephine had merely suggested to the Inquisitor that she make more of an effort to befriend the Champion, or at the very least to not appear like she wanted to behead the human whenever they met. For her part, the Champion had done little to ease relations, whether it was dark, accusing scowls, her capricious jokes or even her smirk that seemed in place most of the time, it all served to rile the qunari. Hence the angry form of the horned woman who paced before her.

“Mistress Adaar, you needn’t be friends with the Champion, you merely need to show a willingness to work with her.” Josephine attempted to soothe, the Inquisitor snorted.

“She makes no attempt to work with me, all because of these.” The Inquisitor pointed angrily at her horns, not ceasing in her trampling of the fine carpet. The qunari’s sizeable boots left clear depressions where she paced.

Josephine rubbed at her eyes irritably before continuing, “The Champion’s views are … unfortunate,” The qunari snorted again at her words. “But we need to make more of an effort to work with her. An ally, as … disagreeable as she may be, is far better than a neutral party who would do nothing to aid us.” Josephine appealed for no doubt the hundredth time.

“Do we even need her aid?” The Inquisitor finally stopped her pacing and turned to face the ambassador. Had Josephine not had considerable experience with angry figures of significant power, she might have been frightened by the qunari’s glare. Even though she was far more used to figures of political power than those with martial prowess. “Corypheus walks free because of her, none of this would have happened had she not released him.”

“Which is precisely why she would make an excellent ally.” A heavily accented voice supplied.

Ambassador and Inquisitor turned to see Leliana stride into the room in the confidant gait of her role as Spymaster.

“She more than anyone has reason to fight him, to seek to make up for her mistake in the Vimmark Mountains.” The redhead supplied with an acute look at the Inquisitor.

The qunari merely huffed in reply and resumed her pacing.

“From what little I know of our Champion,” Leliana continued, “she is drawn to fight to protect those in need. Despite her air of indifference, she will stand up for those who cannot do so for themselves. A useful trait in a Champion, no?” The Spymaster finished with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“Are you suggesting we manipulate her, Leliana?” Josephine asked, uncertain.

“I am merely pointing out a somewhat shared character trait with our dear Inquisitor, common ground if you will …” The redhead gave a pointed glance to the Inquisitor.

“And common ground is the start of every negotiation.” Josephine finished, taking her cue from Leliana and pointedly gazing at the qunari.

The grey skinned woman folded her powerful arms and narrowed her eyes at the two humans who smiled sweetly back. Feeling her resolve crumbling in the face of an undeniable argument she turned away with a scowl.

“Fine, I’ll try to find this _common ground_ then.” The way she said ‘common ground’ left Josephine in no doubt that she thought very little of the whole affair.

“Perhaps invite her to join you in one of your missions Inquisitor?” Leliana suggested innocently as if they were discussing the weather.

A rough sigh escaped from the qunari. “Yes, fine, you’ve made your point, both of you.” She muttered with more than a little irritation before making her way out of the study, grumbling about the ridiculousness of humans as she went.

Josephine stifled a chuckle and turned to her friend. “Thank you, she’s been reluctant to listen to anything I have to say on the matter.” Leliana gave a humoured smirk in reply.

“I think our dear Inquisitor struggles to deal with issues that cannot be met with a blade.”

“That is why we are here is it not?” The Ambassador rounded her desk to take her seat. There was still so much work to do. She paused a moment in thought before she picked up her quill. “I think we should be ready to step in, just in case Lady Adaar does not succeed in maintaining … a civil front.”

The Spymaster laughed well naturedly. “We cannot hold her hand forever Josie, there will be far more challenging people to coax to our side than the Champion in the weeks and months to come. At least Hawke is willing to work with us, for the moment. Besides, perhaps I think it would be better if the Inquisitor learnt to deal with this sort of … challenge herself.” She finished with a ghost of a smile and a twinkle in her eye that Josephine could have sworn was familiar.

“What are you up to Leliana?” The Antivan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, all too wary of the Orlesian’s notion for trickery and games.

“Nothing.” The Spymaster held up her hands innocently. “For once I am content to step back and see how things play out.”

“A likely tale.” Josephine muttered.

“Truly,” Leliana countered with a small laugh, “I think that the Inquisitor could gain much from this, and the Champion could perhaps learn a thing or two herself, no?”

Josephine murmured slightly in response, the redhead had a point, if the two warriors could get onto amicable terms on their own it would be wholly beneficial to both parties. Meddling from the Inquisition’s Ambassador or Spymaster might strain things further as an unwelcome interference. Perhaps the Champion could see that there was much to be gained by an alliance, support for Kirkwall in the face of Starkhaven aggression or even something as simple as a monetary reward.

“Perhaps you are right. It is up to the Inquisitor then.” Josephine agreed after a while in thought and lowered her head to compose a letter to a Lady Seryl of Orlais. A feisty woman to be sure if her last correspondence was any indication, the ambassador felt a headache coming on already.

“Isn’t it always?” Leliana commented, only half joking as she strode out of the study.

Josephine lifted her head to watch her friend leave and chuckled to herself, “True, let us hope she is up to the task.”

xxx

Marian finally found out why Varric was so supportive of the Inquisition, it had nothing to do with the righteous cause, the fantastical stories he could glean from it or even the Lady Inquisitor herself. No, it was all because of the Herald’s Rest tavern located right inside the fortresses walls. It all made perfect sense now. In the weeks since Marian had first arrived at Skyhold, the silver-tongued dwarf could be found at the tavern nearly every night, weaving a tall tale or two with a copiously sized flagon in hand.

_That dwarf sure loves his ale_ , Marian thought, fondly remembering the nights she used to spend with friends at the Hanged Man.

The storytelling dwarf had actually lived at the Hanged Man back in Kirkwall, but the tavern at Skyhold had much better ale on hand. That and the fact that it was protected by a literal army at all times made it a much more palatable drinking hole. Marian remembered clearly how rowdy Lowtown could get after dark. The number of times she’d had to beat up lowlifes who’d tried to make a grab at her or her friends was beyond counting.

_Still, those were the good old days_. She thought with an absent smile as she trudged towards the Herald’s Rest, the sun setting just over the valley between two snowy mountains on the horizon.

Sure enough, when Marian entered the tavern, her lovable, troublesome dwarf was already there. Seated by the fire with flagon in hand, the other arm gesticulating heartily as he told yet another of his ridiculous tales to a sizable group of wide eyed recruits, each pair of ears hooked on his every word. Varric raised his flagon in acknowledgement of the Champion, not breaking out of his storytelling persona.

_At least that means he’s not telling another one about me then_.

Marian smirked at her friend as he re-enacted a vicious battle between a valiant band of Grey Warden’s and a talking darkspawn of all things. The Champion shook her head at her friends tall tale and moved over to the bar, opting to wait with a drink while she listened to the glorified bedtime story. Honestly, how could anyone believe any of this nonsense?

Another dwarf was stood behind the counter, half-heartedly cleaning a flagon with a dirt tinged dishcloth. Marian hoped that the dark colour was just the candle light. She ordered a drink and sat at the bar, watching her friend as he worked his way up to the glorious climax of his epic tale.

She marvelled at how entranced these young recruits were on the dwarf’s words. Not that she hadn’t seen this kind of thing before when it came to Varric, but she’d have wagered that the last thing a band of fresh faced recruits would want to hear before being put to battle is the often arduous tales of the Grey Warden’s. Having a Grey Warden for a sister meant Marian was well aware of the fabled order’s trials. It was never as glamorous as the tales told.

A figure approached her to her left. Marian took a long swig of her ale and sighed, yet another fan she supposed. Apparently there were a lot of people in Skyhold who’d heard of her adventures in Kirkwall, from Varric no doubt, and many starry eyed soldiers had already approached her wanting an autograph, a drink or something a lot less innocent and decidedly unwelcome. She’d thought that she’d eventually become used to hero worship since becoming Champion, but it never ceased to grate on her nerves, particularly when the lecherous ones showed their faces. Sharp words were poised ready on her lips to put down the would-be admirer, when she turned to see the Seeker standing there.

“Champion.” The seemingly ever stern Cassandra gave Marian a curt nod.

“Seeker.” Marian greeted in kind. “Don’t often see you in here.”

“Yes well, ale tends to make fools of even decent men and women.” The Nevarran glanced pointedly at the group listening to Varric.

Marian couldn’t help but smirk, she loved her short friend dearly but even she had to admit that this latest tale of his was really farfetched.

“So, what brings you here tonight then?” The Champion set her flagon down and turned away from Varric. Cassandra stood still, seemingly holding whatever thought or question she had. Marian nodded to the seat next to her and after a moment, the Seeker obliged.

“It is a question, of … professional curiosity you might say.” Cassandra managed to ground out.

“That sounds serious. I’m guessing it’s not the comparing-sword-techniques kind of professional? Maybe you want to swap stories on our biggest kills?” Marian half-joked, earning her a scowl from the Seeker.

“No. Nothing so … trivial.” Cassandra sighed for a long moment before continuing. “I assume Varric has told you about how I came to him with questions. Questions about you in particular?”

Marian had indeed heard about this, although the way Varric had told it he had been abducted by an army of crazed Seekers looking to assassinate him. Cassandra had apparently gone mad and wanted to take over all of Thedas, starting with the kidnap and murder of one particular storytelling dwarf. A dwarf with a penchant for lies and over embellishment no less.

“He had mentioned it.” Hawke muttered into her flagon, barely supressing her chuckle.

The Seeker scowled again, or was she just narrowing her eyes in thought? It was so hard to tell with the Nevarran, she always looked displeased with something or other.

“Well, we came to Kirkwall looking for you, or at least to find where you went.” The Seeker began slowly.

“Is that what this is about? You want to know where I was after the Chantry-”

“No,” Cassandra cut her off with a wave of her hand, “that is unimportant now, although come to think of it this whole exercise is.” She finished under her breath.

“Then … what is it you want to know?” Marian’s brow furrowed in confusion, she silently wondered if she wasn’t walking herself into a trap, maybe the Seeker was manoeuvring her into saying something incriminating about the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry.

“We came to look for you, because we needed you.” The admission came from the Seeker almost unwillingly. Marian’s eyebrows shot up. “Divine Justinia planned the Inquisition before the conclave, but we needed someone to lead it. We looked for the Hero of Ferelden, but we found nothing, then we came looking for you, and found nothing.” The Seeker scowled at the bar for a few moments.

“I’m still not sure …” Marian began.

Cassandra half sighed, half scoffed wearily. “What I wish to know is this: Had we been able to find you, before all of this, would you have agreed to become Inquisitor?”

That gave the Marian pause. The Champion of Kirkwall was one thing, but Inquisitor? She starred into her flagon, trying to think of an answer.

“I … I stood by the mages in Kirkwall, during the annulment,” she began falteringly, “you really thought that I’d be … acceptable as Inquisitor? I can’t imagine the Seekers of Truth taking a liking to that, let alone the Templar’s.”

“Kirkwall was an unusual case, even before you had arrived, it was known in the Chantry that Knight Commander Meredith was … extreme in her views.” Cassandra gazed into Marian’s eyes earnestly, “We knew that you attempted to avoid the conflict between Templars and Mages from escalating when you could. It was partly for that reason that Most Holy wanted to seek you out.”

“That didn’t matter in the end though did it?” Marian muttered quietly.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night of the annulment. The explosion that claimed the chantry, the fire and smoke and blood of battle as Templars cut down anything in their way, all because of Anders. In spite of it all, Marian hadn’t been able to cut down her friend, if he could even be called that anymore. She still wasn’t sure if she’d made the right choice, but how could more blood bring justice to that already spilled? That was what she told herself anyway, whenever she began spiralling this debate in her thoughts. Sebastian had certainly made his thoughts clear on the matter, as had the others, but only Sebastian had left her side that night. The Prince had gone to reclaim Starkhaven and was now looking to make moves on Kirkwall, if rumour was to be believed.

“I failed to keep Kirkwall safe. I was there for years and it’s more unstable now than ever. Not much of a Champion, am I? Can’t imagine what kind of Inquisitor I’d have been.” Hawke muttered bitterly into her flagon, half hoping the Seeker wouldn’t hear the shame in her voice.

“Do not blame yourself for Kirkwall’s troubles, Champion.” The Seeker put a hand on Marian’s shoulder and forced her to look at the Nevarran. “You were the one who fought to keep it safe, more so than anyone else. From the reports I’ve read, all other forces prominent in the city sought to gain dominance over one another, all except you.”

Marian blew out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding and brushed her hand through her hair wearily. She appreciated the Seeker’s words and smiled a little in thanks, though she didn’t feel particularly reassured. She dragged her thoughts away and back to Cassandra’s question. It was almost bizarre, discovering that you hadn’t been the most wanted fugitive in Thedas after all. Though she’d been accepted into the Inquisition now, she’d assumed that it was due to the desperate need for soldiers to help fight Corypheus. Marian had been generally wary around many of the Templars and the Seeker in particular. This revelation made all that and those years on the run seem completely insane now.

“Honestly … I don’t know,” the Champion muttered heavily, “I mean, had I known all of this, then maybe I would have helped sooner, but being the Inquisitor? … I’ve no experience of running anything like this.” She gestured to the reasonably filled tavern behind them and the fortress beyond.

Cassandra chuckled a little at that. “Who does?” She asked with a wan smile. “These are strange times indeed, but from what I hear, you’re no stranger to doing things that no one else has even dreamed of.”

Now it was Marian’s turn to chuckle. “You got me there.”

She took another swig of her ale and focused on the flagon in thought for a long moment.

“Yes.” She turned to face the Seeker again, “If you had found me, sat me down and explained everything you wanted from me just like you’ve done now, then I probably would have agreed to it.”

A sad smile skipped over Cassandra’s face for a second. “Just as well that we didn’t find you then, or the Maker wouldn’t have needed to send Lady Adaar.”

Marian held her tongue for any snarky remark to that and merely hummed in reply, opting to take another swig of her ale. The pair sat in silence after that, the clink of flagons, light conversation and Varric’s waffling their only companions.

“Cassandra,” The Seeker dutifully turned around at the call, standing straight to attention as she saw her visitor.

“Inquisitor, was there something you needed?”

Now Marian turned around, curiosity peaked. It wasn’t often that she saw the qunari anywhere near the tavern that was lovingly named after her. The grey skinned woman had shed her armour and was wearing a plain shirt, trousers and jacket, simple but clearly very finely made. Her powerful figure was obvious even without the aid of plate metal. Her hair was still bound in ponytail, but a few strands had gotten loose and hung over her forehead. Dark horns stood resplendently on the already tall woman, almost meeting the ceiling. Marian noted idly that this was the first time she had seen the Inquisitor in anything other than metal plate. Even out of her armour and away from the eyes of the influential, the Inquisitor was the embodiment of soldierly discipline. Her posture was tall and strong and straight. She grudgingly admitted to herself that the qunari looked good, though there was still that constant harshness to the taller woman’s face.

“I need to head out to the Fallow Mire tomorrow, Inquisition soldiers were kidnapped by Avvar there, will you join me?” The qunari asked simply of the Seeker, seemingly less an Inquisitor, a leader of hundreds of devout Andrastians, more of a friend asking for a favour.

“Yes, of course Inquisitor, it would be a pleasure.” Cassandra said with her usual practical approach to things and bid them both a good night before making for the door.

The Champion and Inquisitor were left there together, sat and stood silently in each other’s presence. Though she saw Varric weaving his tale in the background, all she could hear from him right then was that she should apologise. She mentally swatted the notion away, noting the narrowed eyes of the Inquisitor upon her, disapproving. She was all too aware of the qunari’s pale grey eyes roaming over her in silent appraisal, eyebrows narrowed. Deciding it would probably be better to write the night off and avoid another confrontation, Marian downed the last of her ale before getting up to head off to her quarters.

“You would be welcome to join as well.” The qunari spoke suddenly as the human stood. Her furrowed brow left Marian questioning the legitimacy of her, _welcome_. “That is, if you’re not too busy drinking yourself into a stupor.” She added in that taciturn manner of hers.

Marian chuckled at that, she wished she still had some ale, just to drink it in the horned woman’s face. Well, if she couldn’t rise to that challenge, then she’d just have to meet the other one head on.

“Why not, maybe I could show you a thing or two about how to wield a blade. Although, you probably already know something about that, murdering innocents and children as you horned types do.” She shot back lightly almost as a joke, almost. She lazily leant back against the bar.

Maybe she was crossing the line, in fact she was certain of that, yet there something about the qunari that just seemed to demand a challenge, a battle, Marian couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Out of the corner of her eye she noted the barkeep edge slowly to the far end of the counter.

The Inquisitor’s scowl deepened even further, if that were possible. She crossed her arms and scoffed irritably. “Of course,” she drawled acidly, “I’m responsible for the horrible things qunari have done over the years. Just like all the mages are responsible for Magisters starting the Blights, and how all Rivaini’s are pirates, or how all Orlesians are responsible for bad taste.”

Marian almost flinched involuntarily, an uncomfortable lump in throat formed as she thought of her sister.

“Besides, I don’t think I need your help.” The Inquisitor continued. “When it comes to it, I wouldn’t want to think that I’d killed Corypheus only to let him go free, _again_. I wouldn’t want all those lost lives on my hands after all.” The grey skinned woman snapped.

Marian clenched her teeth involuntarily, eyes narrowing dangerously at the qunari. There was a traitorous part of her mind that told Marian that she probably deserved that, but she quickly swatted that thought down and swallowed. Before she could formulate a reply the taller woman shook her head and turned to the side.

“I apologise, that was beneath me.” She muttered, not quite meeting the Champion’s eyes.

Marian turned back to the bar and her back to the Inquisitor.

“Let’s all hope that when you finally face him, you don’t make the same mistake.” She muttered sourly, not even caring if the horned woman heard her or not.

An audible sigh heaved from behind her. “Come or don’t, we leave at first light.” With that, Marian heard the sizeable footfalls of the qunari’s gait leaving the tavern quickly.

The Champion ordered another flagon from the nervous barkeep, nearly downing it all in one long gulp. Corypheus was one of the very few sore spots that could do any damage to the fabled Champion, that and her friends and family.

She idly thought of her sister, hundreds of miles away in an isolated Keep somewhere on the fringes of the world. Marian uttered a silent prayer to the Maker that Bethany be kept safe. Marian was far from being the most devout Andrastian, but when it came to those she loved she’d take any comfort she could get. She’d already lost enough.

Taking another long swig, Marian eyed yet another figure approaching her, this one a lot larger. Turning a weary head to the side, another qunari filled her vision, this one male and very, very broad. To top it all off the man sported two gigantic horns that stuck out of his head to the sides and bent upwards at right angles, completely different to the sweeping arcs that the Inquisitor owned.

_Maker, it’s like I attract them or something._

This new figure didn’t say a word to her at first, merely took the seat Cassandra had vacated and drank deep from his own flagon. Marian tried hard to remember this one’s name, she’d met him before, very briefly, and she’d often seen him in the tavern drinking in the corner.

“Would you like a little argument as well? Perhaps a duel?” She muttered absently, her words a little slurred as the ale started to take the required affect. The qunari chuckled at her words, a deep throaty laugh that seemed to resonate through the furniture.

“No, I think you’ve had your fill for one day.” Came his gentle reply, the deep timbre of his voice surprisingly soothing, his accent far stronger and much more alien than that of the Inquisitor.

“Lucky me.” Marian swirled around the contents of her flagon absentmindedly, hoping her latest companion would just leave her be.

“You just looked like you could use some company.”

_Maybe not then._

Marian turned her gaze and eyed the smiling qunari dubiously. “Are you’re trying to hit on me? Didn’t you just see my little show with Lady … Horns just now …” Her voice wandered off as he let out a hearty laugh.

“Sorry, no I, I’m not.” He took a few moments to completely stop his laughter. “No, I’m pretty good at telling when someone’s into me, and you’re definitely not.” He finished with a knowing smirk.

“That so?” Marian eyed her strange new companion suspiciously. “What makes you so sure?”

“I’m a people person.” He stated matter-of-factly and drained his drink. He swiftly ordered another from the barkeep.

“That must be nice.” Marian admitted, “I’m more of a sword to the face kind of person.” She meant it as a joke, but if the qunari took it as a warning she wouldn’t mind either.

Said qunari laughed again, “I know, right? That’s why they call you the Champion down here I guess.”

“Down here?” Hawke narrowed her eyes like her namesake in curiosity, “Are you a … qunari, qunari then, from the North, follow the Qun and all that stuff, not like the Inquisitor?”

“Yep.” He said simply, as if it was nothing of consequence.

Surprisingly, mostly to Marian herself, she wasn’t all that concerned. Maybe it was this big guy’s easy manner, or his openness, or maybe she was just drunk.

“Huh,” was all she said to that, “so, what are you here for then?”

“To kill demons, Vints, evil magical crap, you name it really.” The Champion found herself chuckling in spite of herself.

“I’ll raise a glass to that.” She replied, clinking her flagon against his unceremoniously.

“What about you? No Arishok’s to kill this far south, not anymore.”

Marian literally froze.

“Oh don’t worry. I’m not here for some revenge fantasy. The old Arishok was nothing to me, never even met the guy.”

“Right.” Marian put her flagon down and decided it may be better to try to cling to some semblance of sobriety in case things did turn violent. “Well, I’m here to fight Corypheus, so mostly the same as you I guess.”

“Uh huh,” The qunari muttered and took another long swig, “That’s what we’re all here for, right?” He turned to face behind them, curious Marian followed suit and the mismatched pair sat watching Varric. The qunari gestured towards the recruits, “From the lowliest farmers, to Chantry agents, the qunari, and even Champions … and whatever the hell Varric is I guess.”

Marian laughed good naturedly, a growing suspicion that her drinking companion was trying to get at something. “Sounds almost idyllic when you say it like that.”

“Sure, but you know nothing ever is though. Not without a lot of effort from everyone involved to bring it all together, and keep it that way.” Marian tossed him a sideways glance. “Take Varric for example, his bullshit works because they’re all hooked on his every word.” As if on que, the group of recruits gasped in response to a climactic battle.

“Varric has a knack for bullshit, I agree.” The Champion replied with a smirk, earning her a short chuckle.

“Sure, sure … but what if one of those recruits decides suddenly that he doesn’t like what he hears, and he stands up and calls Varric out on his bullshit. Maybe the others get doubts too, maybe they leave as well, and just like that the whole thing falls apart.”

Marian closed her eyes and chuckled to herself, shaking her head softly. “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point.” She conceded, raising her hands in surrender.

“Point? I just wanted some company to drink with.” The qunari winked at her with his one good eye and then he got up and made to leave.

Marian shook her head again with a smirk and reached for her flagon. _Smart man, smarter than me anyway_. She suddenly felt a twinge of regret with how she ‘handled’ the Inquisitor earlier.

She spent the rest of the night nursing that drink as she watched Varric spin his tale to its dramatic conclusion. The Grey Wardens slew the evil Broodmother deep underground and re-emerged victorious, heroes one and all. Marian hoped that the Inquisition could be so lucky.


	3. Battle in the Bog

**Battle in the Bog**

If Herah never visited another bog or swamp for as long as she lived it would be too soon. Venturing into an undead infested bog to find some kidnapped soldiers was not her idea of fun. Scout Harding wasn’t joking when she suggested holding her nose. With the dead bodies littered practically everywhere the stench was horrific. Top it all off with an Avvar tribe hell bent on killing her and it was all just _lovely_. The Maker only knew why the Inquisition had sent their forces here in the first place. She knew that she originally authorised the expedition to venture here herself, but Herah could see nothing worth risking life and limb for. The soggy bog held little to nothing of value, save for the half dozen or so Inquisition soldiers now in Avvar hands. Though that fact made her visit to the bog all the worse, knowing that there were yet more lives resting on her skill with a blade.

The only blessing was that Herah didn’t have to suffer alone.

“Yuck! Why’d you ‘ave to bring me to a stinking swamp like this then?” Sera moaned over to the Inquisitor.

“It’s a bog, not a swamp.” Corrected the mage Solas.

“I don’t care what it is! It stinks and it’s full o’ dead things. Don’t want nothing to do with it. And why’s it so wet all the time?” The archer shook herself like an animal in a vain attempt to throw some of the water from her clothes.

Cassandra, who was walking along next to her, raised an arm to shield herself from the spray and made a disgusted noise.

“Bogs, by their very nature are wet, Sera.” Solas muttered with no small amount of exasperation.

“You don’t say, genius!” Sera shot back. “I wondered what all this wet stuff was then.”

The mage merely shook his head with a weary sigh and proceeded to ignore her moaning.

Herah sighed with a half amused, half irritated smile from the front of the party. At least her adventures were never boring with such colourful companions. The qunari glanced back over her shoulder at her party. The two elves both wore annoyed expressions and were seemingly keeping well away from each other. The Seeker was walking in between and was visibly happy to have a moment of respite from their bickering, however brief. The final member of their entourage hung at the back, Hawke silently gazed out over the rain spattered waters with a concerned look.

Herah was somewhat surprised that the Champion had actually chosen to come with them, particularly with her issues with certain tall, horned, grey skinned leaders of inquisitorial armies. Still here she was, suffering with the rest of them, though Herah would have preferred to have nothing to do with the bigoted human. She scowled to herself as she remembered her Ambassador’s pleas to make nice with the Champion. As much as she was begrudged to admit it, she could see the benefit to Inquisition to try and get on at least civil terms with the Champion. She didn’t have to like the human, just smile and not stab her.

Herah shook her mind free of thoughts of the Champion. There were lives at stake here. She couldn’t afford to lose focus.

The journey through the bog lead the intrepid band through a seemingly endless sea of undead and demons. Thankfully Herah had managed to close the few rifts that plagued the area to stem the flow of demons. Before long the party reached a narrow channel through the dead filled waters that led to the base of an old, forgotten looking fortress.

“Well, that’s not creepy at all is it?” Sera intoned humourlessly.

As if to emphasise the point, a bolt of lightning suddenly hit the earth somewhere beyond the fortress.

The archer audibly gulped.

“Come on, we have to press forward.” Herah tried to muster more eagerness into her voice than she felt. The others followed her as she paced forwards, so that was something.

Barely ten steps forward, a creaking groan reached the Inquisitor’s ears. Cursing under her breath, Herah drew her great sword and heard her companions do the same. To the left of the rain sodden path a lone decrepit figure staggered up to stand, then it was followed by another, and another and ten more.

“Well, they look like they mean business.” Hawke uttered humourlessly as she joined Herah at the front of the group. Cassandra took the qunari’s right, the warriors shielding the ranged elves at the rear.

“Any orders, oh fearless leader, or just: stab, stab, kill, kill?” The Champion quipped with that infuriating smirk up at Herah as the first lines of undead made their advance.

“We’ll just have to fight our way through.” Herah called out through gritted teeth as she lunged forward to cut down the nearest monster. It fell easily, but the Inquisitor could see that it had been replaced by several more, still rising behind the ever growing mass. “Keep each other in sight, stay together, don’t leave any gaps for them to break through and don’t stop moving.”

“Yeah, and make sure you don’t let them get to the elves,” Sera called out, “’specially the one’s with bows.”

Solas’ scoff reached all their ears.

“You sure about this?” The Champion narrowed her gaze at the qunari, an increasingly familiar expression. “We could easily get cut off from escape, and I don’t much fancy having to save your arse.”

“Not if we keep each other covered and keep pushing forward. We’ve no time to look for another way in.” The qunari shot back with heat, glaring down at the Champion for moment, fully expecting a challenge. When none came, she turned back to the fight at hand. “Alright, let’s go.” The Inquisitor rushed forward, ignoring the human’s furrowed brow with growing irritation.

She swung her great blade forward, chopping and slicing in wide arcs to get as many of the corpses in her attacks as she could. Out of the corners of her eyes she spied the figures of Cassandra and Hawke pushing into the fray just as fiercely. The three warriors were a veritable whirlwind of blades, cutting their foes down almost as fast as the dead could rise, but not fast enough.

The odd whistle of an arrow in flight and the shrill shriek of magical energy soared around the fighters as Solas and Sera added their own attacks to the fray. Bright red filled Herah’s vision for a moment as a fireball found purchase in the face of corpse not three feet from her. Eye’s protesting against the sudden flash of light, the Inquisitor ducked into a defensive stance while her pupils readjusted. The clamour of battle echoing all around her, she could only see flame.

A grunt and a shove from the side, Herah nearly lost her footing. The sharp clang of steel on steel rang out right in front of her. Her vision cleared enough in time to see a corpse leering at her less than a foot away, its outstretched blade held back by the Champion’s great sword. Hawke thrust forward, forcing the monster’s blade high. Herah seized her chance and ran it through, the rotten flesh practically melting on her blade.

Sparing merely a half second to nod her begrudged thanks to the Champion, the qunari resumed her work.

“There’s too many,” Cassandra’s strained cry came from her other side, “we must break through!”

“Quickly then, to the Keep!” Solas called out, thrusting his staff forward and a jagged spear of lightning came out, frying any and all undead it touched. The spell cleared a small but visible path forward. The open gates of the fortress tantalisingly close. Then in a near instant, the path closed with the bodies of corpses.

With a shout that was more of a primal growl, Herah threw herself forwards along the path, cutting down anything that lay before her. Her reckless assault left its mark as the horde finally managed to find gaps in her guard, the cuts were many but not deep. The Inquisitor could practically feel the others close on her tail as she forged a path ahead.

It may have been moments, it may have been hours but eventually the group reached the entry to the Keep proper. The numbers of undead thinned out and soon enough the warriors were fighting to keep them out of the fortress.

“We need to block them.” Hawke called over the snarls and gurgles of the dead. “Someone, shut the gate!”

Herah pushed off her latest attacker and cast her gaze about, the trellis gate hung above them, suspended by a chain, an old and rusted chain.

“Hold them back!” The qunari yelled to the others as she ran to the chain, with an almighty swing she hacked at the metal. In one strike the chain was almost completely severed.

Herah turned back to the humans, “Get back!”

The pair of warriors jumped backwards at her command.

With another grunt of effort, Herah hurled her blade at the chain and cut through, straight into the masonry. The tension broke and there was an almighty rattle as the gate came crashing down, skewering a few corpses unlucky enough to be underneath. The rest of the party made short work of the few undead that made it through the trap. The remainder pressed themselves up against the gate, fruitlessly clawing at the air.

The party took a collective moment to catch their breath, a moment soured somewhat by the moans of the dead leering after them. Sera visibly shivered as she gazed back at them.

“Everyone alright?” Herah called out, still feeling the battle’s remnants through her body, but she was much more concerned with her companions.

They all murmured their assent.

“What about you Inquisitor?” Cassandra’s still panting voice filled with concern.

Herah cocked her head and narrowed her eyes for a moment in confusion, then lowered her gaze. Her arms and torso were covered in blood, it took her more than a moment to realise that most of it wasn’t her own. Though she was certainly worse off than the rest of the party, it was nothing that would slow her down. The Inquisitor waved away the Seeker’s concern and pulled herself up straight, she’d been in worse fights than that.

“That was reckless,” all eyes turned to the Champion as she wiped the blood off her sword, “breaking forward like that, you could have gotten yourself, and all of us killed.”

Herah folded her arms and drew herself to her full height, suddenly tempted to do something else rather reckless. “It worked did it not? And I don’t recall you doing anything to get us out of that mess.” She spat back at the human.

“I told you that they’d cut off our escape.” The Champion paced right up to Herah, sword still in hand. The Inquisitor was tempted to dare her to use it. “But you rushed in anyway, you’re lucky to be alive.”

“We don’t have time to prance about looking for a safe way in. There are good men’s lives at risk here!”

The Champion appeared to toss those words over in her mind for a few moments. She sheathed her sword and made to move forward along the path.

“True.” Was all the human said. She clapped the qunari on the back with an insufferable smirk as she passed the Inquisitor.

Herah was met with a near irresistible urge to take her sword and wrap it around the human woman’s head.

“Inquisitor … should we not carry on?” Cassandra’s cough interrupted Herah before she could do as much as reach for her blade.

“Yes, _let’s_.” Came the somewhat acidic reply, without another word the Inquisitor turned on her heel and made after the infuriating human.

The group made their way further up the path to the main citadel, pausing only to take care of a few Avvar stragglers who dared to think that they stood a chance against the two elves, two humans and a rather irritated qunari. As they reached the steps to the central hall, another clap of lightning sounded off ominously in the distance. Herah gestured to the others to stay behind her as she crept closer to the top of the stairway. They all followed her command, even the Champion. The steps lead to a long stone corridor, bricks and broken masonry littered the floor if the ruined structure. The Inquisitor stalked forward eyeing her quarry at the end of the passage.

“Herald of Andraste! Face me!” the call rang out just as she entered the main chamber, the stone and ceiling had collapsed long ago allowing the elements in. At the head of the room, more stairs leading to a stone dais, atop which stood an Avvar warrior, broad and bound in muscle.

“I am the Hand of Korth himself!” The Avvar all but screamed to the heavens. Raising his great axe, he summoned more Avvar out from behind the pillars left standing amidst the ruins.

Herah drew her blade just in time as one of the warrior’s ran towards her blade outstretched. She parried and replied in kind, cutting across his chest swiftly. The Inquisitor’s companions joined the fray, blade, arrow and magic hurling themselves at the Avvar. The so called Hand of Korth strode down from the dais slowly as the battle unfolded, a maniacal grin plastered across his painted face. With the rest of her party thoroughly engaged in combat with the other kidnappers, Herah cut through her first opponent swiftly and moved to intercept the massive Avvar, the man was practically giggling in glee as he made his first move. The axe shot towards the Inquisitor in a vicious strike faster than it had any right to, Herah barely got her own blade up to deflect the blow in time.

Before she could even think of countering, the axe came down again from above. The qunari dived out of the way, hearing the screech of steel on stone as the axe buried itself in the floor. Jumping back to her feet, Herah took the sudden reprieve to steady herself, then launched into the Avvar as he struggled to free his weapon from the masonry. A growling howl escaped his lips as her sword cut deep through the back of his shoulder. He turned to look at the qunari and with that same maniacal smile, levered his axe free, bricks flying up from sheer strength of effort. Herah narrowed her eyes at her foe and charged again, matching the Avvar’s speed with her own, matching each and every blow with her own. Both combatants drew blood in the blur of blade and axe as each sought to land the killing blow on the other.

Herah’ body ached, from fatigue and the effort in raising her sword time after time to meet the Avvar’s strikes, yet still she fought on. One slip, one delayed reaction and it could all be over. On mistake, and all the lives that were counting on her would be snuffed out. Out of the corner of her eye she spied the steps leading up to the dais. Still focusing on the fight at hand, she formulated half a plan and began manoeuvring herself backwards up the steps. The Avvar’s malicious grin grew wider and his strikes grew stronger, believing to have the qunari on the back foot. Reaching the steps, Herah deftly climbed a few steps, getting in position, standing over her quarry.

The Avvar was seemingly too drunk on bloodlust to recognise that Herah now had the high ground. With half a smirk to herself, the Inquisitor locked the Avvar’s axe with her blade, the two weapons crossed in between the warriors. The Avvar began to laugh absurdly, he was still laughing when Herah used her height advantage to leap up and over him. The move took the Avvar by surprise, his chuckles died to the shriek of scraping steel, the man stumbled backwards under the weight and force of the qunari’s attack. Herah pushed into him as her body flung over in somersault, at the last moment, when the Avvar stumbled back in an effort to catch himself, Herah broke free from the lock. Almost directly above the painted warrior, the Inquisitor deftly re-angled her blade and swung outwards in an arc, catching the Avvar’s neck with steel.

His head hit the ground before his axe did and rolled off to taint a puddle with blood.

Herah completed her flip and took a step to steady herself, catching her feet before falling over onto the Avvar’s body. Platinum eyes immediately up, gazing about for more enemies, she was mightily relieved to find only her companions stood before her. They were all looking up at the qunari in thinly veiled awe.

“Damn.” Sera said simply, Cassandra and Solas merely nodded.

Hawke meanwhile opted to clap, smirk firmly back in place.

Suddenly feeling a little bit self-conscious, Herah idly focused on cleaning her blade of blood and sheathing it. “Come on, we still need to find the soldiers.”

It didn’t take long for the group to find them. They were locked up just off to the side of the chamber was a room still standing that served as a makeshift prison. The men and women all jumped in fear and some drew their weapons as the Inquisitor managed to open the door.

“Herald of Andraste!” A woman standing near the door yelped, she was clad in Inquisition scout armour.

“We’ve dealt with the Avvar. Is everyone alright?” The Inquisitor cast a cursory glance over everyone.

“Yes, your Worship.” The scout sketched a rough curtsey in her nervousness, “The injured need some rest, but we can return on our own.” The Inquisitor’s party moved in to help with the wounded.

“I can’t believe the Herald came for us.” Herah heard the awe filled whisper of one of the injured. The man was gazing up at the qunari as though she was Andraste herself.

“I told you she wouldn’t leave us.” The voice of the man kneeling next to him was filled with no small amount of pride. Herah didn’t know how to respond, or even if she should.

An injured moan from her side distracted her however and she moved to help settle a man whose arm was badly broken. The Champion came over to kneel down on the other side of the man, trying to distract him from the pain with what could only be described as a series of terrible puns in the loose form of a story. Herah rolled her eyes copiously as she worked to bandage the arm, careful not to let the Champion see the odd amused smirk that threatened to escape her lips. The puns seemed to do the trick however, which was all that mattered really.

xxx

Before too long, the now enlarged party were ready to move out. Despite the flustered protests of the woman in charge of these troops, the Inquisitor and her companions escorted them out to the edge of the bog, where Scout Harding was waiting tentatively. The dwarf’s composure visibly relaxed upon spotting the group.

“So, the Inquisitor saves the day again?” She called out with a friendly smile as she walked to meet Herah.

“Apparently so.” Herah replied with a sigh. “Let’s keep the bog rescues down to a minimum from now on though. I’ve had my share of undead and mad Avvar to last a lifetime.”

“I make no promises Inquisitor.” Harding chuckled as she walked on to check on her scouts.

Herah shook her head wearily as she trudged over to camp nearby, her party not to mention herself, were far too tired to march back to Skyhold now. The qunari looked forward to a long night in bed, even if that bed was a thin sack of wet straw. She shed her weapon and armour and literally felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The relief was welcome but short lived, as the fog of battle and strategy disappeared and the weight of her positon as Inquisitor took over her mind.

The way those soldiers had looked up to her when she found them, it was … unnerving. She was used to receiving funny looks from people, being more than a head taller than most people, having horns and grey skin had that effect. But awe, pride even, Herah was unfamiliar with those. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Coupled with the fact that she was now at the centre of an army bound to stop Corypheus or watch the world …

Herah stopped herself before trundling too far down that particular mental path. It was one that she’d strayed down often enough before, too often.

She moved over to the camp fire and sat on one of the logs, Cassandra was already there, seeing to her own armour, the others had seemingly all retired for the night. The Seeker nodded at the Inquisitor but said nothing, so engrossed in her task. Herah attempted to focus her mind on maintaining her equipment, but the doubts ceaselessly nipped at the edges of her mind.

“Hey.”

The sudden voice almost made Herah’s horns leap from her head. The Champion was standing over her as the qunari worked on her gear, the human had likewise eschewed her armour.

Hawke stood there lamely for a moment before sitting near the Inquisitor further along the log. “That was, err, nice- nice work today. Not just with the killing things – I mean, with the soldiers as well.”

Herah just sat there slightly dumbfounded. Hawke appeared to be slightly perplexed too, unsure what to say next. After merely another awkward few seconds, the human woman swiftly diverted her attention to her sword and worked away in silence. Herah blinked for a moment in confusion then followed the other warrior’s suit. The pair worked out the kinks and cleaned their gear, ate a surprisingly fulling meal of bread and stew, then went to their separate tents, all without another word.


	4. Politics and the Problems Therein

**Politics and the Problems Therein**

“Inquisitor, might I have a moment?” The heavily accented voice of Leliana caught Herah’s attention as she strode through the great hall at Skyhold.

“Is something wrong?” The qunari asked quietly, brow furrowed in expectation of trouble. Not that there weren’t always troubling issues to deal with, but chances were that if her Spymaster was seeking a ‘moment’ then it was likely something more serious than arranging a surprise party for someone’s birthday.

“Perhaps.” Leliana murmured softly, surreptitiously gazing about the hall, checking if the walls had ears no doubt. “We should pay a visit to Josie, no doubt she would love to hear what we have to say, no?” She said louder, more cheerfully in her normal tone of voice. Evidently the Spymaster didn’t trust to speak freely in such an open space, even if it was their castle.

Herah merely nodded and the pair set off towards the ambassador’s office. At first the qunari had objected to such cloak and dagger activities, but with the very fate of Thedas on the line she couldn’t afford to be careless and so Leliana had convinced her to play along. Upon entering the study, Josephine and Commander Cullen awaited them, locked in heated debate. Honestly sometimes her advisors acted more like a bunch of school children arguing over a toy than leaders of the Inquisition. She half expected the Ambassador to start pulling at Cullen’s hair.

“Commander, you cannot be serious. To provide military support could lead to untold political ramifications in the future.” Josephine spoke quickly at her desk. A worrying amount of letters covered the wooden surface.

“And to do nothing could lead to untold lives being lost now.” Cullen shot back, jabbing his finger on the desk to emphasise his point.

Leliana sighed to herself before coughing loudly enough for both Ambassador and Commander to hear. They looked up and immediately bowed their heads.

“Inquisitor,” they both chimed in, “there has been a … development in the Free Marches.” Josephine continued delicately.

“Is it Corypheus?” Herah’s eyebrows shot up and she became excited and nervous at once, “Have we found him at-”

“No Inquisitor,” Leliana saved Herah from further thoughts, “It is more of a … human matter.”

“We have received a letter, your worship, from Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven.” Josephine plucked up a letter from the mountain on her desk without looking and held it out to Cullen. The Commander took it and marched over to Herah.

“It seems the _Prince_ has designs on the city of Kirkwall.” The tone of voice Cullen used left little doubt as to his opinion of the Prince. “He means to invade the city under the pretext of flushing out the mage Anders and his associates.” Herah ran her eyes over the letter quickly as the former templar spoke. The Prince sought Inquisition aid in taking the city.

“Starkhaven is powerful enough to invade other cities?” Herah asked incredulously, she had lived just outside the Marcher state for some time many years prior. The city had undergone a change in ruler more than once in the preceding years. The near constant power struggles evidently had a dramatic impact on its strength. At times there was nary a guard to be found. It was one of the reasons that her company had chosen the city as their base for a time, fewer armed humans to throw them out. It didn’t last of course, but longer than most.

“Prince Sebastian has seemingly built up quite the army since seizing the throne some years ago.” Leliana answered. “It is my understanding that he was in Kirkwall during the conflict between mages and templars, at the Champion of Kirkwall’s side, at least for a time.” That piece of knowledge earned her a raised eyebrow from the qunari.

“Does the Champion know about this? Varric?”

“Not yet, but given their connection with both the Prince and Anders, we wondered if it would be prudent to question them both about how best to proceed.” Leliana commented slowly.

“We needn’t intervene if you so wish Inquisitor,” Josephine drew Herah’s attention, “There is little to be gained from helping the Prince, and … I am uneasy at the prospect of being part of an invading force. Such an aggressive act could stain our reputation forever.”

“Which is precisely why I still think we need to support Kirkwall.” Cullen spoke up, voice hard as iron. “The Prince is little more than a fanatic. These associates he speaks of, when he does not find them, how long before he turns his swords to the people in the streets for answers that simply aren’t there?”

Leliana spoke next, “Another option would be to grant him his request.” Cullen scoffed at Leliana’s suggestion but she continued nonetheless. “We could grant him the men he seeks and at the same time plant my agents within his ranks. They would keep the Prince’s armies from doing too much damage, and shedding too much blood.”

Herah furrowed her brow at the Spymaster’s words. She didn’t like the idea of supporting an invading army. It was one of the few taboos during her time as a mercenary. The Valo-Kas company never took jobs that involved raiding or anything that could be construed as an invasion. As qunari they couldn’t afford to provide fuel for that sort of reputation. They mostly stuck to guarding caravans and providing security. Still, if it could truly serve to save lives …

“Too risky,” Cullen shook his head firmly, “you cannot stop people from dying with a few spies.”

“This war is happening Commander,” Leliana narrowed her gaze at Cullen, voice low and sincere, “many will die on both sides whatever we decide to do.”

The Commander could not argue with that and sighed wearily.

“Enough.” Herah held her hand up to stop any more bickering, she sighed as she contemplated the letter in her hand. “We should inform the Champion and Varric. At the very least, they have the right to know what is happening.”

Cullen bowed his head again. “As you say, Inquisitor.”

xxx

Marian was breathing hard, sweat poured down her brow as she rolled out of the way of the qunari’s strike. An overhead blow slammed into the ground, sending earth and pebbles flying. Back to her feet, a short battle cry swung her attention to the left. A charging foe rushed at her. There was no time to move out of the way. She ducked low and dived in, making to grapple her attacker’s legs. The man fell, smashing into the ground with a grunt of pain. The Champion deftly spun onto her feet and grabbed her opponent’s sword from the ground, laying the tip over his neck.

“You’re dead.” She muttered with a smirk through her panting.

“Not yet!” A straining, accented voice from the side drew her sword up.

The qunari was back, swinging his massive blade in a wide arc. Marian barely managed to block in time, the force of the blow shunting her across the ground and slamming her into the masonry behind. For a long moment, her vision blurred as she struggled to right herself.

The man she’d disarmed and the qunari were upon her again, both poised and ready. Marian smirked to herself in spite of her precarious situation. She’d never go down without a fight. In the few moments that she took to regain her composure, her opponents looked at each and wordlessly conveyed a plan of attack. They separated, one stalking to the left of Marian, one to the right.

“What’s the matter, afraid of a fair fight?” Marian taunted through her grimace.

“Why fight fair when you can fight to win.” The male human snickered in reply.

Marian could appreciate the logic in that. The fact that they had to use every advantage they felt they could get against her – even two on one – filled her with pride. Even outnumbered, wounded and bloodied she was a threat to be reckoned with.

“Come and claim your win then.” She muttered with a smirk, not even caring if they heard and readied herself. Her assailants poised themselves ready to pounce. Marian could feel it even as she struggled to keep them both in view.

She was looking chiefly towards the qunari when it happened. An object, an apple of all things, flew through the air and collided sharply with the horned giant on the head. The smack of the contact reached all ears. Then, an orange quickly flew in as well. More fruit swiftly found the qunari in a series of wet thumps. His poise was lost and he stumbled a little in confusion.

Marian seized her chance. She leapt towards the qunari and caught him squarely in the chest in one fluid move. Her smirk grew wider when she heard the human swear loudly at her manoeuvre. She rolled deftly to the side as the qunari fell, anticipating the man’s charge. With an entirely unnecessary flourish, she spun on her heel, deftly avoiding the charge and brought the hilt of her sword down on the back of the human’s neck. The assailant went sprawling to the ground face first.

“ _Now_ , you’re dead.” She snickered as the dead man rubbed at the back of his neck in irritation.

“Ow, Maker’s breath, that really bloody stings.” He moaned in pain.

The qunari got up from the grave as well and moaned likewise.

“Ah, shut up Krem, at least you didn’t get it in the ribs.” The broad Iron Bull lifted his gaze to scowl up at the elf who was laughing away on the rooftop above. “And you’re,” He pointed an accusing finger, “not supposed to throw fruit!”

Sera continued to laugh at him though, Marian thought for a second that she might laugh so hard that she’d roll off the roof, but the archer managed to stay planted.

“Ah, that was well funny that!” The blonde cackled. “The mighty Iron Bull beaten by a bit o’ fruit an’ veg.” Sera collapsed into another laughing fit while Bull just glared daggers at her and muttered a string of curses under his breath.

Marian managed to supress her growing smirk at the qunari’s humiliation. She had to give him and Krem credit, if it were not for Sera’s fruit intervention, Marian would likely have lost.

“Champion,” Marian was pulled from her musing by the approaching figure of Commander Cullen, “Champion, you’re needed in the war room.” The former templar seemed serious, even by his lofty standards. The Champion gave him a long appraising look, whatever it was, it was serious indeed. She nodded her assent and handed the wooden training sword to Krem before following in the Commander’s footsteps.

As Cullen led Marian through Skyhold, she idly noticed how sweaty and dirty she was from her training with the Bulls Chargers. The Commander couldn’t have failed to notice and she took him for a stickler on presentation, perhaps she ought to be more concerned that he didn’t think their business could wait until she’d cleaned up a bit. She was still trying to tame her ever spiky hair in vain when they reached the war room. Cullen swept aside the great double doors with ease and strode through, Marian followed.

The other advisors were there, as was the Inquisitor. The qunari raised her gaze from the war table to the Champion as she entered, brows rising slightly. The Champion narrowed her own gaze in silent response to the Inquisitor, daring some smart comment from the horned woman. She got none however and was somewhat surprised when the Inquisitor averted her gaze quickly, seemingly abashed? It was then that she noticed the small form of Varric on the far side of the grand war table.

Marian levelled him a look that said, ‘ _what did you do this time_?’

Varric shrugged in reply, ‘ _no bloody idea_ ’.

“Good,” Leliana began, “Now, I imagine you’re both wondering why you’re here?”

“I take it it’s not for tea and biscuits?” Marian quipped to the amusement of Varric, and no one else it seemed.

“Would that we were.” The Ambassador sighed. Marian was becoming more agitated by the second now. “We have received a letter, from an old acquaintance of yours, Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven.”

That took Marian by surprise. She hadn’t seen or heard from Sebastian since that fateful night in Kirkwall. When he’d sworn to retake Starkhaven and muster an army to capture Anders.

The Inquisitor drew a parchment from the table and handed it to the Champion. She read it quickly, and then read it again to make sure she’d understood. Her expression remained fairly neutral somehow. She handed the letter to Varric without a word and watched to gauge his reaction. The dwarf spent a lot longer reading and rereading the letter and by the time he was done, his face had fallen.

“Well, shit.”

“That bastard.” Marian muttered quietly, angry at herself and the Prince in equal measure. She wasn’t responsible for Sebastian’s actions, she knew that. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she should have done something, stopped him from leaving during the Annulment or … something. She anxiously caught Varric’s gaze and saw the look in his eyes, he understood.

Another detail drifted into her mind then. Sebastian had asked the Inquisition for their help.

“How do you intend to reply?” Marian kept her voice level as she felt her blood run cold.

“That was what we were hoping you could help us with.” The Inquisitor said gently. “Both of you.” She opened her mouth to say more when Marian heard her own voice rise out of her suddenly.

“You’re not thinking of helping him are you?” Her voice half shout, half snarl.

The pause and the way the advisors glanced at each other gave her an answer.

“Lady Hawke,” Josephine began to implore, “we had not decided on anything, we merely discussed the possibilities of-”

“You were debating over whether to burn my home?” The Champion shot at the ambassador, incredulous and outraged.

“ _I_ in fact, advocated that we politely decline the Prince’s request for aid.” Josephine countered, steel under the velvet in her voice.

“Which of you wanted to march in as conquerors then?” Marian demanded, turning her gaze instantly towards the lone qunari in the room. The Inquisitor glared back, lowering her arms and straightening her posture fully as if to challenge the Champion.

“I suppose that would be me, though I would not have put it so … theatrically.” Leliana stepped forward, she raised her hand to stop the imminent tirade, “ _I_ wished to place agents in the Prince’s forces to monitor his intentions and to mitigate any attack on the city.”

“That’s _my_ city you’re playing with Sister Nightingale.” Marian’s voice low and dangerous. She glared daggers at the spy but the redhead returned her scowl evenly. Varric loitered at the edge of the table, seemingly flabbergasted at the turn of events.

“Dear Champion,” Leliana drawled in that heavy accent of hers, “my people could gain the confidence of the Prince and his advisors and apply pressure where necessary to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.”

“You’d still invade Kirkwall, my city!” Marian all but shouted at the redhead. “The blood of my people – my friends – would be on your hands just as much as Sebastian’s!”

“We would be the Prince’s controllers in this war.” Leliana met the Champion’s glare evenly. “Prince Sebastian is a devout Andrastian. That he reached out to the Inquisition with no encouragement from our end shows his eagerness to make an ally of the Herald of Andraste.” She indicated the qunari who seemed to squirm a little at the use of her title. “It is clear to see that the Prince believes that Lady Adaar is such. You yourself Champion have told us of his piety, we could use this easily to curb the worst of his invasion, no? And once the invasion is done, the Prince would owe his victory to us.”

“You just want a puppet!”

“What I want is an ally, Champion.” Leliana’s clear blue eyes flashed with fire. “We are at war. We need allies, willing enough, and strong enough, to stand at our side against Corypheus.”

Marian wanted to lash out again, yet she held her tongue. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t deny the redhead’s logic. Given this latest development, it would make sense for the Inquisition to seek an ally in a strong Starkhaven rather than a weakened Kirkwall. Even so, the idea of supporting an attack against her home, against her friends still living and working in the city, made her stomach turn.

“I take it you would be most swayed by the third option then?” The Inquisitor intoned, seemingly to break up the alpha female battle before it escalated. Neither Champion nor Spymaster broke their gaze however.

“Which is?” Marian still glaring daggers the Spymaster’s way.

“We ignore the Prince and instead offer support to Guard-Captain Aveline, she leads Kirkwall’s defence.” Cullen spoke up moving over to the map on the table.

The Commander passed between the two women locked in a battle of wills and they both looked away as he did. Marian didn’t want to get into any unnecessary fights, she was here after all to help fight Corypheus and duelling the Inquisition’s Spymaster to the death would do little to help matters. Still, she wouldn’t forget this little episode.

“Then why are we still debating this?” Marian demanded incredulously of them all. “Sebastian’s gone mad, clearly. All he wants is vengeance, vengeance against a man who isn’t even there.”

The Commander shot a pointed look to the other advisors at the Champion’s words.

“If you let this pass without even helping Aveline to stop it, then thousands of innocents will die! There’s no other way, either you help Kirkwall or you condemn her. That’s my home, you can’t let it die.” Marian finished pleadingly.

There was silence for a few moments before the Inquisitor turned to the dwarf, “Varric?” She asked simply.

“I know you’ll all think I’m biased. Well, shit, of course I’m biased.” Varric intoned for the first time. “But I’m with Hawke, that’s my home too you know. I don’t want to see it get razed to the ground. We’ve got a lot of friends there, the Guard-Captain included. Besides, I put a lot of money back into the damn place.” He chuckled ruefully with a shake of his head.

The Inquisitor nodded her head for a moment, gazing onto the map where multiple icons of Starkhaven loomed over a solitary Kirkwall one. “Very well, the question is, what kind of support do we send?”

“Excuse me Inquisitor, but are we to take it that you have reached a decision to aid Kirkwall, not Starkhaven?” Josephine asked delicately.

The qunari turned to Varric, then to Marian. Her piercing, platinum gaze looked right through the Champion for a few moments.

“Well?” Herah asked with a raised eyebrow.

Marian furrowed hers for a second in confusion, then she noticed the others around the table, they were all looking at her expectantly. Marian wasn’t expecting this, to be given the decision.

“Yes- of course.” Marian jumped on the chance, a little uncertainly given the strange way things had proceeded. The Champion thought she saw the ghost of a smile on the Inquisitor’s lips before she turned back to Josephine.

“And there you have it.” The qunari replied to the Ambassador before turning back to the war table. Marian’s gaze lingered on the horned woman for a few seconds more, still pretty surprised the final decision had been given to her.

“Very well,” Cullen began, swiftly turning his gaze to the map with a furrowed brow, “we have some troops in the North of Ferelden here.” He indicated on the map. “With word from a fast raven, they can be in the Free Marches in a matter of days.”

“Are some fresh troops enough?” Marian spoke up again, approaching the map with more confidence, “What about coin, food, weapons, anything.”

“Perhaps we should send word to Guard-Captain Aveline with an offer of help before bombarding her with soldiers and mountains of war supplies.” It was Leliana who spoke, Marian looked up to see a small smile, she seemed to be completely over the friction of before.

“Very well, I will begin drafting a letter immediately.” Josephine declared and immediately began scribbling away on her writing board.

“Mention that we’re with you, offering the help that is.” Marian called over to the Ambassador, indicating herself and the dwarf. “Aveline will be more likely to accept aid if it’s from friends.”

Varric chuckled at that. “You sure about that Hawke? I’ve never known the Guard-Captain to accept help from anyone.” Marian smiled at that with a laugh. “Besides, if Aveline hears it’s from me as well, she’ll probably reject it on principle.” The dwarf joked.

Marian’s brow furrowed in thought before turning back to Josephine. “That’s a good point. Just mention my name then.”

“Hey!” Varric squawked indignantly as Josephine sliced through his name on the parchment with her quill, a humoured smirk on the Ambassador’s lips.

“It’s for the best Varric,” Marian tried to soothe with a smirk, “she’d probably think it’s all just another scheme to get you the Hanged Man.”

“That happened once,” the dwarf grumbled, “Only once.”

It took Josephine a mere minute more to finish a draft, she passed it to the Inquisitor who looked it over. The qunari nodded in approval and handed it round the others. Varric huffed when he saw his name struck from the letter but held his tongue. Marian read it through herself and was surprised at the quality for just a draft. Barring Varric’s censured name it was practically ready to send. She handed it back to the Ambassador who then began working on a clean copy. Soon enough the letter was ready to send and Leliana took it to her rookery to send via raven.

The others filed out after the Ambassador, but Marian caught the Inquisitor’s arm as she made to leave.

“Thank you,” Marian muttered, more to the floor than the qunari herself, “this, this means a lot to me … and Varric of course.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at the Inquisitor’s face, the face she had all but spat at when she’d first arrived.

After a mere moment of waiting for a reply she couldn’t take the tension anymore and left the room, leaving the qunari behind her.

She wondered more or less aimlessly around Skyhold for a while after that, just needing to distract herself. She hated this feeling, this shame. She could be honest enough with herself about what she felt, despite her frustration and embarrassment at it all. This ‘monster’ that Marian had been so disparaging too, had in one small action proved herself a better person than the Champion. The sting of irony was not lost on her. It wasn’t really a small action of course, choosing to send troops and aid to a city under the threat of an imminent invasion. Compared to the growing might of the Inquisition however, it was barely a drop of water in a wide open lake.

In her musings she found herself wandering up to the rookery, the domain of Sister Nightingale. It wasn’t a conscious decision of hers to come up here, but seeing as she had now found herself here, she resolved to set some things straight. She marched up the last spiral of steps to find the Spymaster gazing out over Skyhold on the balcony. Marian didn’t bother to ask for an audience before striding right up to the hooded figure.

“Champion.” Leliana said simply, as if she was expecting the warrior, which she probably was.

Marian decided not mince words and just to get to the heart of it right away.

“You probably already know this,” she murmured low, hovering just on the edge of the Spymaster’s personal space, “but I don’t take kindly to people threatening that which I hold dear.” Her eyes flashed blue fire. “Now, I respect you and your work _Sister_ , but if you ever try to strike at me in such a way, I will strike back all the harder.”

The redhead merely sighed and shook her head ruefully.

“Champion, do you not realise that if I had truly wanted Kirkwall attacked, then it would be in flames already?”

Marian narrowed her scowl. It wasn’t a threat, merely a statement of fact. One that she could very well believe given everything she knew about the redhead. “Then what was that all about in the war room?”

Leliana chuckled a little and shook her head again. “Maker, you would be terrible at the Game my dear Champion.” Marian pushed her eyebrow high, waiting for an explanation. Leliana sighed after a few moments and relented. “I gave the Inquisitor a choice, either support Kirkwall or support Starkhaven.”

“Or do nothing at all.” Marian intoned.

“Ah, but is that a choice our Lady Adaar could stand to choose?” Leliana smiled slyly. “Have you ever known her to stand by and do nothing when others are in peril, even when all the options available are grim?”

Marian couldn’t say that she had, though she didn’t know the Qunari very well at all, but that still didn’t explain everything.

“So, she still might have moved to attack Kirkwall, on your advice.”

“Perhaps,” Leliana nodded in agreement, “my people could certainly mitigate any damage to your home, dear Champion. Perhaps even more so than your Guard-Captain may be able to do in the coming battle.”

“Then what are you saying?” Marian growled, growing in impatience.

Leliana sighed wearily again before replying.

“What I am saying, Champion, is that I put forward one solution and you championed another, most emphatically I might add. In the end, the Inquisitor chose your solution. Perhaps she was swayed by your logic, or maybe it was your emotions that did it. You and Varric were both quite passionate about your ‘City of Chains’. Either way, our dear Herald was quick to give you the final say, no? Almost as if she had already decided what she would choose, even if she didn’t know it herself.” She turned back to look out over the fortress while she let that sink in.

Marian tilted her head as she took in the Spymaster, appraising her as if for the first time. “You- You couldn’t have known that, what she would do.” Marian’s voice was quiet, her mind half lost in thought.

“Here’s some free advice Champion. There comes a point in the Game when you can’t rely on spies, illicit information or even the threat of either. At some point, you have to judge a person with your own eyes and take a leap of faith.”

Marian didn’t know what to say to that, she stood in silence beside the Left Hand of the Divine and the pair stood deep in their thoughts for a time. After a while, the Champion turned back to face the Spymaster.

“So why suggest joining forces with Starkhaven at all?” She asked with narrowed eyes.

Leliana smiled, “Isn’t it obvious? I am the Inquisition’s Spymaster. It is my duty to provide the Inquisitor with all the information I have at my disposal, even the most unpleasant of it, even if that information is unpalatable, unthinkable. It could still prove useful in forming a decision, no? Even, if nothing else, as a prompt to take action, knowing that the alternative is to stand still and let fate take its own, often terrible course.”

“But what about securing allies for the Inquisition? I thought you wanted-”

“Is that not what we are doing now Champion? Whether by supporting Kirkwall or Starkhaven, the Inquisition gains an ally, no?” The redhead interrupted with something of an incredulous smile. “In truth I cannot say which would be more beneficial to our cause: On the one hand, a strong nation allied to us, merely for subjugating a rival they were already likely to triumph against; on the other, a weakened city, grateful to us for helping to secure their very existence and way of life. Both outcomes certainly have their merits for us in the Inquisition, but I believe that the question of which of the two would be more valuable to our cause is one far more suited to our strategists and leader, not I.”

Marian regarded the redhead carefully for a few moments. “It seems I’ve misjudged you.”

Leliana chuckled in reply and turned to face the warrior. “It is what makes me effective, no?” She winked ever so quickly that Marian wasn’t even sure it happened.

The smile on the redhead’s face seemed genuine, but after their little discussion, Marian was not sure what to believe in with the other woman. Leliana turned to leave but Marian called after her.

“What happens if you take that leap of faith and fail?”

The Spymaster turned to regard the Champion for a moment. Then her gaze fell to the floor, and Marian had never before seen such sorrow.

“Then you burn.” Leliana turned and left before Marian had the chance to reply.

The Champion sighed, instantly regretting her question and feeling the urge to apologise. Yet it was too late, as per usual. She turned back to the balcony edge and gazed out for a while longer, but she didn’t really see. She thought of the many surprises of the day. She’d have to make it up to Leliana somehow, but there was someone else who deserved her grovelling so much more.


	5. Side by Side

**Side by Side**

“Come on, not much farther now!” Herah called back to her companions with vigour, willing them forward as they hiked through the hills of Crestwood.

The rain sailed down thick and heavy on the party. The occasional clap of thunder lit up the hills around them in stark clarity. They’d been out there in the wind and wet for hours, running this way and that, fighting demons, bandits and Maker knows what else. Now their merry little war band had slowed to a trudge through the mud. Well, everyone else was trudging along. Their leader appeared to Marian to have a seemingly limitless supply of stamina.

Much to her shame, Marian was struggling to match the qunari’s stride. Was she losing her touch? She could have sworn that she was in better shape than this. Then again she never had to venture too far during her time in Kirkwall. She barely ever left the city most days, maybe a trip to the Wounded Coast or Sundermount if she was unlucky, but that was about it. Though she was doing somewhat better than the others, Marian thought with a backwards glance to the rest of the party. Varric, the Seeker Cassandra, and the Tevinter mage Dorian were also lagging behind the Inquisitor. Marian made a mental note not to tell Fenris that she’d been working alongside a Tevinter mage. The elf would likely question why she didn’t slay the mage on principle. He was a good man though, Dorian. In fact everyone she’d come into contact with in the Inquisition were good people.

The Inquisitor herself – as much as she begrudged admitting it – was also a good person. In fact if Marian was being perfectly honest with herself, the Inquisitor had more or less disproved every prejudiced fear the human woman had about the horned species. She’d only known the Inquisitor a short while and yet this revelation was more than a little humbling, not to mention embarrassing. If Varric ever found out, he’d never let her hear the end of it.

The qunari in question had agreed to meet an old acquaintance of Hawke’s, a Warden she knew well by the name of Stroud. He’d saved her sister’s life once, Marian owed Stroud much. Despite the pressing need to see him and investigate the missing Wardens, the Inquisitor had practically demanded that they stop and help the village of Crestwood, besieged by demons that they were. Not that Marian disapproved of course, quite the opposite in fact. She merely found it surprising of the qunari. To be honest she had been routinely surprised by the taller woman since they first met. Herah really seemed to be the typical hero from one of Varric’s more grandiose stories: stoic or aloof perhaps, but fair, just, and brave, in the way all the best heroes of the dwarf’s stories were. Not to mention with how the Inquisitor had handled the situation between Kirkwall and Starkhaven, Marian was in her debt. No small part of her regretted her stupid mouth the day Varric introduced them, and for a few other embarrassing incidents since.

_Damn the dwarf for being right._

The Inquisitor brought them to a halt on a hill’s peak a way ahead of the others. An audible ‘Thank the Maker’ reached Marian from behind. Evidently a breather was well welcomed.

The Inquisitor was gazing intently out over the landscape ahead when the others finally managed to catch up. The rain sodden hills stood around them, dotted with the odd building. A large lake stood in the middle of it all, an eerie green glow pulsing under the tide. Despite the rain and occasional thunder about, it was quite beautiful, to Marian at least.

“We’ll rest here for a while,” The Inquisitor announced. The others virtually collapsed in a collective heap.

“You know I’m beginning to regret this whole ‘save the world’ business,” Dorian commented to the group as he seated himself on a rock, “it’s absolute murder on my feet.”

“You did join voluntarily Sparkler.” Varric quipped, fruitlessly wiping rain from his face.

“Alas, so I did.” Dorian bemoaned theatrically. “Is there any chance you could release me from this cruel bondage?” He turned to the Seeker who took to inspecting her sword.

Cassandra surprisingly joined in on the joke. “Ask the Inquisitor, it is she who holds your whip.”

Dorian was delighted. “Ah-ha! Well put madam.” He turned to the peak where the Inquisitor still stood. “What about it my good Lady, perchance you have no further need of my services?”

“I never did in the first place.” The typically stoic qunari answered, prompting laughs from the others. It might have been the rain in her eyes, but Marian could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on the qunari’s lips.

So the Inquisitor also had a bit of humour as well, if only a small amount. Just another thing that Marian had to admit to herself that maybe she was too quick to judge the horned woman for.

Still, one thing about the qunari was just as she expected, the taller woman had uncommon skill with a blade. Made sense really, the tall horned people had invaded nearly all of Thedas several ages ago. The Inquisitor however, was almost an army all on her own. She swung her great sword with such power and speed, she was almost as good as Marian. _Almost_. The Champion smirked to herself at the thought of testing her skill against the horned giant.

As if sensing her thoughts, the horned woman turned to face her, their eyes meeting for an awkward moment.

“We’ll move out soon enough.” The qunari answering what she assumed to be an unasked question, before turning back to gaze out over the landscape.

Water practically cascaded down the taller woman’s face and white hair but she paid it no mind. In that instant the Inquisitor looked every bit the rugged, determined hero Thedas desperately needed. Marian idly thought back to a life many years ago, listening to her father spin epic fables of heroes and legends. She’d loved those stories, her and her siblings. The qunari before her now was almost exactly like how she’d imagined those heroes as a young girl. The horns and the colour of the skin were different to the figures of her childhood fantasies, but the sheer strength – physical and mental – the noble bearing and the valiant resolve were all the same.

The human shook her head clear of her ponderings as she walked up to stand beside the qunari.

“Inquisitor …” Marian started, but immediately stalled.

Herah turned to face her fully, a quizzical eyebrow raised, her expression pretty much unreadable.

The Champion took a sigh before continuing, cheeks flushing unwillingly. “Inquisitor, I wanted to apologise, about the day we met … and I suppose about much more since then as well. I didn’t know you, Maker I still don’t really know you. But …” Marian sighed, “you’re clearly a damn sight better than I gave you credit for.”

The qunari just stood there still, silently appraising her.

_Time to turn on that old Hawke charm!_ The Champion flashed her best winning smile to try and sway the Inquisitor.

The qunari appeared unmoved, eyes narrowing in displeasure, though perhaps it was just to shield them from the rain.

_Well this is going well_. Marian thought, standing there grinning like an idiot. A different tack was in order.

Marian stopped smiling to try to give her words more seriousness. Not something she was used to. “Listen, I’m sorry I thought you were a crazy, murdering heretic, bandit who’d butcher her way through Thedas.” Somehow the words passed her lips before she had the chance to fully analyse them.

One of Herah’s eyebrows rose up pointedly. Her head tilted downward a fraction.

_Boy she doesn’t look pleased, nice going Champion!_

“I- That came out wrong.” Marian grimaced.

The qunari murmured something inaudible. Probably along the lines of ‘you don’t say?’

The Champion rubbed at her eyes in frustration. She was mildly surprised that the Inquisitor was still standing before her when she opened them again. “I- I’m sorry about that too,” the human offered lamely. “Can we just, wipe the slate clean and start again?” She offered her hand.

The qunari still stood there unmoving. Silver eyes regarded blue in evaluation. The rain still fell around them, providing the only sound. Marian wasn’t entirely certain whether Herah was more likely to shake her hand or cut it off.

After a long, agonising moment, the qunari let out a breath, a sigh. It could have been borne of resignation or annoyance. She slowly reached forward with her hand and took the human’s, shaking it in a firm clasp. She still said nothing though.

Marian took the handshake as a good sign though. “Ok, good.” She muttered, somewhat more cheery than before, though that wasn’t a momentous achievement.

The Inquisitor still said nothing. Her eyebrow only lowered a fraction. Though her whole face seemed much less hostile somehow, the Champion couldn’t pinpoint why though. The silence from the qunari was becoming excruciating however. She was still staring at the human as if trying to determine what to make of her. Marian couldn’t begin to guess what she was thinking.

“Well, I uh,” Marian started, hoping to start an actual conversation but unsure of what to say, “I like your horns.” A voice inside Marian screamed at what she was saying, but her mouth just carried on. “Their very … impressive.” She finished lamely, hopeful that the rain would at least hide her blushing.

“You’re a very peculiar human.” Herah stated at last, tilting her head a little as if she was meeting a human for the first time and was wondering what to make of this strange species.

_I was just thinking that myself._

“Well I … I try my best.” Marian half joked with an awkward smile.

The Inquisitor chuckled at that, the first time Marian had heard it truly.

Then without another word, the horned woman turned towards the others’ makeshift camp and walked off to join them. Marian stood there slightly dumbfounded at the exchange. So she could make the qunari chuckle at least. It was at her rather than with her, but still, progress.

xxx

When the party had finally secured the village of Crestwood, they ventured out to find the Champion’s Warden friend Stroud. Thankfully the weather had cleared up somewhat, making their search easier. Herah didn’t mind the rain so much, but sunlight did make a nice change. It also meant a little less slipping around during battles, which was always a plus.

Stroud had provided a lot of information, mostly worrying. Something serious was happening to the Grey Wardens, driving them to using demons and blood magic. The Inquisitor needed to get to the bottom of it. She’d seen and heard of many a tragic tale that had emanated from blood magic. In spite of Solas’ assertions that blood magic was just another facet of the supernatural, Herah had yet to see it not end in tragedy.

As the Inquisitor’s party made their out of Stroud’s cavern hideaway, Dorian stretched elaborately, “Well, this has all been fun, all this talk of blood magic, Wardens going mad and such, but I’d wager it’s time to return to Skyhold and a warm comfy bed.” The mage sighed in bliss as he cracked his neck. Cassandra rolled her eyes at his comment but didn’t argue.

Before anyone could agree with his sentiment, an almighty roar shook the very ground. Pure, primal and savage, the sound yearned for bloodshed. Looking off in the distance, Herah spotted the end of a rusty bronzed wing cresting over a yonder hill.

“Well done Sparkler,” Varric toned in humourlessly, drawing Bianca from his back, “you just had to tempt fate didn’t you?”

The Tevinter mage grimaced over to the dwarf apologetically.

“Come on,” Herah called, already moving, “we can’t let it reach the village!”

“Apologies, everyone!” Dorian shouted out as they all broke off into a run towards the dragon.

Cresting the ridge that separated dragon and adventurer, the Inquisitor paused to gaze down into the valley below. The High Dragon was enormous, a mass of striped scales. A purple tinged head wielded two great horns that jutted forward menacingly. The crackle of lightning cascaded around its mouth. Perched amongst ruins, the dragon idly knocked over a stone column as a child would with wooden blocks. The dragon was loitering over a small flock of rams, evidently getting smaller by the second. A nasty blood smear stained the ground underneath one of the dragon’s talons. The mighty beast growled heavily then suddenly lunged at the flock. Another couple of rams gone in a flash of claws and wool. The rest of the flock bleated in terror as they fled. The dragon paused in its pursuit to eat at the remains of its prey.

A low whistle emanated next to Herah, she turned to see the Champion gazing out over their foe, “Well, this should be fun.” She remarked with that easy smirk of hers, sword resting on her shoulder with ease.

The Inquisitor found herself grinning back. Glancing to her other side, the rest of their party stood ready on the crest with them. With a motion of her hand, Herah commanded them forward.

At once the warriors fanned out, spreading their strength to avoid making an easy target. Dorian and Varric hung back, already launching salvos of magic and bolt into the dragon. Neither did anything to deter the winged beast, it barely even needed to shrug off the attacks.

As if noticing them for the first time, the dragon raised her head from her meal, eyeing the charging warriors with her black eyes. Another rumble emanated from the dragon, Herah felt it through the air and the ground at the same time. Waiting for the last possible second, the qunari launched herself out of the way. A cascade of lightning tore up the ground right where she stood not a moment ago. Clumps of earth cascaded around her.

“Herah!” The shout came from anywhere and anyone. The source was lost amid the fierce energy and chunks of ground flying about.

Herah lifted herself up quickly. The dragon narrowed its large eyes at the qunari, seemingly offended at its prey having the audacity to dodge. The Inquisitor met the gaze of the beast evenly.

A cry off to the side, Herah glanced to the right. Hawke was there, charging the dragon’s flank. She lunged forward with her sword, aiming to pierce the beast’s leg. A dull, metallic clang rang out, the dragon turned away from Herah, now much more interested in this new, human opponent. The Champion took up a defensive stance, ready for anything the dragon dared to throw at her. Before the dragon could act, another cry from its rear. Cassandra was there, striking to draw its attention again. The Seeker rapped her sword across the dragon’s tail, barely making a scratch. A fearsome growl emanated from the beast. Then in a flash, the dragon spun around, lashing its tail out in a wide arc.

Herah dove out of the way again, narrowly avoiding the wicked lash of the tail. Stone and earth were torn up by the dragon’s attack, falling all around the qunari. She covered her head as more debris rained down on her, clattering on her armour. Through the cacophony of mayhem, she heard the shouts of her comrades and the solid ‘whack’ of a collision.

Gathering herself off the ground, it took a few precious moments for Herah to make sense of the battlefield. The dragon was facing away from her, uninterested for the time being.

She spied Dorian and Varric. Both had wisely taken cover behind a stone wall. Cassandra was near them, panting heavily but otherwise unhurt, she’d lost her shield at some point in the frenzy. The Inquisitor cast her gaze around for the Champion.

“Inquisitor!” The shout came from Cassandra. Herah saw where she was pointing.

Hawke was slumped against some ancient masonry, barely stirring. The dragon had turned to loom over the still prey, growling intently, seeing its chance. Herah didn’t need to be an expert on dragon’s to know what would happen next.

Without a moment’s thought, the Inquisitor charged forward, great sword in hand. She saw the dragon rear its head back, the crackle of building electricity clearly audible from its throat. Herah extended her strides as far as possible. As the dragon was about to launch its attack, the Inquisitor leapt.

The dragon opened its maw, death awaiting the barely stirring body of the Champion. Herah lunged with her sword stretched forward. With an almighty cry, she pierced the dragon’s scales, right through the cheek of the beast. The force of her blow shunted the dragon’s head to the side, its attack narrowly missing Hawke’s limp form. The blast gouged a large crater into the land.

Pain surged through Herah, some of the energy of the dragon’s blast wracked her body as she fell to the ground. Waves of electricity coursed through her body, paralysing her. The dragon reeled back from the Inquisitor’s blow, sword still lodged in its bloodied cheek. Its talons clawed frantically at the weapon, trying to draw it out. Herah managed to claw herself up a little, then immediately collapsed again, electricity still wreaking havoc in her body. The dragon finally managed to pull out the blade, a large spurt of blood with it. Shaking its head to free itself of the pain, the beast fixed Herah with a ferocious glare. Evidently unhappy at being denied its rightful kill.

The Inquisitor focused with all her will to try to draw herself up, to stand a slither of a chance. The dragon stalked nearer. Herah caught glimpses of arrows and magic blasts ricocheting off its thick hide. A battle cry and the sound of charging footsteps, the dragon paused only a moment in its advance to swat Cassandra out of the way. Its eyes fixated on ending the Inquisitor. Herah could slightly move further every second, but it wasn’t enough. The dragon pulled its head back, preparing the Inquisitor’s death. Herah shut her eyes and gritted her teeth.

The deafening roar and thunder of lightning enveloped Herah. But still she lived, or so she thought. Opening her eyes gingerly against the screeching blue and white that encased her, a figure stood before the Inquisitor, hunched behind a shield. Herah idly noticed that it was Cassandra’s shield, that of the Seekers, before she registered the holder.

“Come on lazy,” the ever teasing voice of Marian Hawke somehow reached Herah’s ears over the clamour of the dragon’s onslaught, “you’re tougher than this, get up!” The Champion strained through gritted teeth as she forced her body to move against the force of lightning. Her bloodied face deathly illuminated against the shocking blue and white of the thunder all around them.

Straining harder than ever, Herah pushed against the ground and the pain. Red hot lightning still coursed through her body, but she ignored it all. Still not quite back to fighting shape, the Inquisitor drew herself up to kneel behind the figure of the Champion.

“That’s it big girl, get ready!” No sooner than the words had left Marian’s lips, the onslaught ended, the cracking of thunder still echoing in her skull. The dragon was still towering above them, further enraged, if that were possible, by the continued existence of these pests.

“Time to move.” The Champion muttered, Herah needed no convincing. The pair edged back, remaining behind Cassandra’s shield.

The dragon let out a wild cry to the heavens, spewing bolts of lightning everywhere before returning its gaze to the retreating Champion and Inquisitor. Neither had the energy left to make a run for it. The dragon stalked towards its prey, eager to finish what it had started. Marian put Herah’s arm over her shoulders, trying to carry them both away. The pair of them too injured to put up much of a challenge. The dragon suddenly lunged forward with its talons, Marian taken by surprise, failed to raise the shield in time. Fresh pain stung through Herah’s face where the blow connected. The Inquisitor and the Champion were sent tumbling to the ground.

“No!” The desperate shout from Cassandra reached Herah. For what seemed like the umpteenth time today, the qunari tried to get back to her feet. She glanced over to Hawke. The human woman was likewise trying to regain her footing to little avail.

Another growl from the dragon drew Herah’s attention back towards the beast. It reared its head back for another lightning blast. A high whistle cut through all other noise. A long, blue-white projectile flew into Herah’s vision, straight towards the dragon. It lodged itself into the wound Herah’s sword had earned, angled upwards into the dragon’s skull. The attack sent the beast reeling.

More salvos came from the left, the Inquisitor turned to see Dorian and Varric laying into the dragon with everything they had. Cassandra was running over to Inquisitor and Champion. The dragon flailed about in agony, electric bursts flying.

“Are you ok?” Cassandra’s question was half concern, half a demand.

“Oh, fine,” A somewhat woozy response from the Champion. Herah turned to see the human woman lying on the ground looking surprisingly tranquil, eyes completely unfocused. “We’re all just peachy over here.”

Herah had to fight not to laugh at Hawke’s current state. “We’re not out of this yet.”

The Champion took a few moments to focus her sight on the Inquisitor. With a look of intense thought on her face she reached up to touch the side of the qunari’s face, fingers brushing over grey lips. Taken aback, Herah didn’t know what to do or say until the human’s hand came away red.

“You’re bleeding.” Hawke said simply, dazed as if half asleep.

A roar of anguish drew Herah’s attention away from the stunned human, expecting an attack she tensed herself, ready to run. Relief washed over her as she saw that the dragon was being pushed back by Dorian and Varric, leaving a scrappy trail of blood behind.

Man and dwarf were firing everything they had at the beast. With exceptional flourish that Herah couldn’t quite believe was necessary, Dorian fired all the elements at the dragon, each hit finding its mark. Pushed back against the cliff wall of the valley, the great beast unleashed a huge roar, a roar that it never finished. Seeing his chance, Dorian gathered all his will and launched a javelin of purest ice straight into the dragon’s open maw. The spear hit home and embedded itself into the back of the dragon’s throat. With a final guttering growl, the beast fell still, then fell silent.

A deafening silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the collective sigh of relief of the adventurers. The Inquisitor picked herself up and dragged the Champion to her feet as well, still dazed and uncertain standing up on her feet. She looked over to make sure that everyone else was ok. Cassandra was still panting, but otherwise unharmed. Dorian and Varric stood proudly somewhat further away, admiring their handiwork. Well, Dorian was, Varric just looked amazed to be alive.

“Well, that was fun.” The mage quipped.

xxx

Marian was very glad to have survived the battle with the High Dragon, that went without saying. What she was not glad for however, was Varric fussing over her like a mother hen.

“Are you sure you’re ok Hawke?” The dwarf’s concern was equal parts touching and irritating at that precise moment.

“I’m fine Varric, relax. I just hit my head that’s all.” The Champion offered him her best winning smile to try and assure the storyteller that everything was ok. Truly everything was ok, she’d got some cuts and bruises, not least to the back of the head. She’d merely suffered a minor concussion but after a short rest she’d already recovered her senses. The look on Varric’s face told her that he didn’t believe her.

“We should get someone to have a look at you,” He turned to Cassandra, “Do you think they’ll have a healer at the village?”

Before the Seeker could reply the Inquisitor stepped forward.

“Varric’s right.” The tall, grey skinned woman intoned. “You should really have a professional check you over, just to be safe.” Herah looked somewhat worse for wear herself, a striking, diagonal cut had found its home across both her lips, no longer bleeding but likely to scar. A series of other cuts and bruises and burns plastered all over the Inquisitor and her armour.

Varric was visibly pleased that someone was backing him up.

“But I’m completely fine!” To illustrate her point, Marian jumped to her feet to show just how fine and in control of her body she was. However she went light headed at that moment and nearly toppled over into Varric.

Dwarf and qunari shared a look.

“Ok, hang on, that was just light headedness!” Marian complained, already knowing that they wouldn’t believe her.

“Nope, not taking a chance Hawke,” Varric crossed his arms as if to close the matter, “remember that time you broke your wrist? It took me and Sunshine a whole week of badgering before you’d go to Blondie about it.”

The Champion gave a weary sigh, she did remember that episode. At the time she thought it was just sprained, how was she to know any different? Anyway it all turned out alright in the end, Anders just cast a bit of magic and problem solved. Marian was just about to come up with a rebuke when Herah stepped forward again and put a strong hand on the human woman’s shoulder, surprisingly gentle for a giant horned lady who carried around a huge great sword.

“Hawke, please, just to be safe.”

Marian felt the rebuttal die on her lips when she saw the look in the qunari’s pale silver eyes.

“Alright, fine, I’ll see your healer.” She held her hands up in surrender.

“Wonderful,” Cassandra commented dryly from behind Varric, “now that that’s settled shall we move on?” Tired murmurs of agreement met her words and the Seeker set out ahead of the party.

The walk back to Crestwood was substantially more enjoyable than their walk into the region. Already the effects of the Inquisitions presence were being felt. Inquisition soldiers patrolled the roads and locals were daring to show their faces again after being held with fear by the now deceased demons and bandits. The company was more pleasant this time round too, rather than quietly readying for the grim battles ahead, the others were talking and laughing freely.

At some point, Marian found the Inquisitor walking alongside her. After minutes of comfortable silence, the qunari spoke.

“I- I just wanted to say,” The grey skinned woman began falteringly, “thank you … for saving me back there.”

The Champion turned to the Inquisitor, eyes slightly wide.

“Oh … it’s no problem,” Marian scratched the back of her head which was still a little sore, “It’s just, you know, what had to be done.”

“Well I just wanted to let you know I appreciate it.” The Inquisitor blushed ever so slightly. Maker that was a sight Marian never thought she’d see. “You didn’t have to, but well … thank you.” She finished awkwardly.

“Well I wouldn’t be much of a Champion if left the Inquisitor to die now would I.” A teasing smirk crept up her lips. “After all, I wouldn’t want to save the world all on my own again. It gets a bit old you know.”

“Really?” Herah’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What makes you think that you could save the world all on your own?”

“Well, maybe not entirely alone, you do have the Inquisition behind you after all. I’m just saying that when I saved Kirkwall, _twice_ , it was with a small group of friends, not an army of the faithful.” Herah merely huffed in reply as the human’s smirk only grew. “Besides, I earned my title after I singlehandedly defeated the Arishok in a duel, not tumbling out of the fade like some I know.”

A stray thought in Marian’s mind wondered if she was pushing the other woman a bit too far. She had after all just received thanks from the qunari, but she was having too much fun teasing the taller woman.

“Is this a human thing?” Herah questioned, seemingly more out aloud than to Marian herself. “I come to thank you and so you tease and ridicule me.”

A part of Marian actually felt guilty at the slightly perplexed expression on the qunari’s face. It wasn’t a large part of her.

“I’m sorry, that was ungracious of me.” Then because she couldn’t help herself she added, “The next time I save you from a dragon, I’ll be far more gracious when you thank me.” The glare that Herah sent Marian’s way could have moved mountains.

“When we kill the next dragon, _I’ll_ be the one to save your worthless hide from being eaten!” With that, the Inquisitor stormed off ahead.

“Looking forward to it!” Hawke called after her with a smirk.

From behind the Champion, Varric audibly face-palmed.


	6. The Duel

**The Duel**

The Inquisitor strode into the War Room chamber, armour shining in the early morning sun. Cullen, Leliana and Josephine were already present as usual. Ever punctual and dedicated, these three were no small part of the Inquisition’s successes. Herah may have been Inquisitor and Herald to boot, but there would be nothing for her to lead without the help of the three humans stood before her.

_None of them anything like the Champion, thank the Maker_.

That particular human woman grated on Herah’s nerves, always teasing and prodding with a clever remark or a joke or two. The qunari couldn’t figure out the human woman at all. At first the human woman treated her with disdain, mistrust and near open hostility. Since around the time they fought and killed the dragon near Crestwood however, that hostility had morphed into such irritable teasing that Herah wasn’t sure which was worse. Herah’s first conclusion was that the Champion was simply not right in the head. It would explain her early prejudice of the qunari and about half of the things she said. Still, how could someone like that become a Champion of … anywhere?

Herah didn’t doubt the human woman’s skill, Hawke was good – no great even – with a blade, and she knew military strategy nearly as well as Cullen. So not stupid then, just plain _weird_ , yes that was more accurate.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen greeted the qunari with a stout nod, pulling her from her ponderings, “we really must act soon on the situation brewing at Adamant Fortress.”

“There is also the matter of the plot to assassinate Empress Celene.” Josephine put in with a raised eyebrow.

The Commander scoffed. “Losing one Empress is a slight inconvenience compared to potential corruption in the Wardens.”

“Any other Empress, perhaps,” Leliana joined in, “but Celene is the ruler of the mightiest nation in Thedas.”

“She’s still just one woman-”

“Enough,” Herah interjected before they escalated into hair pulling, “we can argue about which target is more important later. We at least need to know how to tackle each one when we do. Cullen, you had a plan for Adamant?”

The Commander nodded his assent and he regarded the map of Thedas laid out before them, an icon placed over Adamant’s location in particular. “Whichever way you view it, it won’t be an easy fight.”

“Not with that attitude.” All eyes turned to the doors as Marian Hawke sauntered into the chamber, her signature spiked armour gleaming.

“Do you have anything useful to add, Champion?” Cullen appeared to be irritated by the Champion’s interruption in affairs.

Herah regarded Marian with a curious raised eyebrow, anticipating the first joke or clever comment of the day.

“Well, not really,” Marian replied with a mischievous smirk, “but if your Inquisitor is half as good as you all say she is,” She accompanied the remark with a slap on the back to the Inquisitor who glared demons at the human woman, “then we should waltz through that Keep faster than an alienage elf’d get through a banquet.”

“ _If_?” The Inquisitor questioned, voice low in warning.

The Champion seemingly paid no notice.

The Inquisition’s advisors exchanged glances.

“Well you did get knocked out cleanly by a dragon if I recall.” The humour in Marian’s eyes was matched only by the mirth in Herah’s. The qunari’s freshest scar seemed to itch slightly at the memory.

“I was unconscious for a moment.” The qunari narrowed her eyes dangerously. The Champion was clearly totally oblivious to the impending doom Herah’s gaze promised. “I seem to remember you were concussed during the same fight. Regardless, it was Dorian who slew the dragon, not you.”

“Sure, sure, but if I wasn’t there to save your horns, where would you be now?” Marian posed the question, feigning innocence. The twinkle in the human’s eyes told the qunari that she was having a lot of fun at the Inquisitor’s expense.

The Inquisitor scowled at that, choosing to remain silent and glare unspoken daggers into Hawke’s eyes.

Marian’s smirk only grew, “Oh you’re certainly a competent leader, Inquisitor, and damn good with that sword to boot.” The human woman gestured to the long slab of metal strapped to Herah’s back. “I’m not denying that. It’s just that some of us know how to make it dance. It’s a good job you’ve got someone like that on your side.” The challenge in the human’s eyes was clear enough for Herah.

“You think you can beat me in a fight?” The Inquisitor took a step into the Champions personal space. Though tall for a human, Marian was still a head shorter than Herah, and lacked the qunari’s horns. Still the Champion did not back away, if anything the glint of amusement in her eyes grew even more.

“Oh, I don’t think that I can. I _know_ I can.” Marian crowed, not even attempting to hide her infuriating smirk.

“I’d like to see you try.” Herah ground out through her clenched jaw.

“Then shall we stop dancing around it and put it to the test, oh _Lady Inquisitor_?” The human woman put a strange, almost mocking emphasis on her title that got under Herah’s skin. Everything about her got under Herah’s skin.

She was being tested, and Herah doubted it was simply on her martial prowess. The smart thing to do would probably have been to redirect them to the matter of Adamant. But the Inquisitor was also keen to test herself against her latest, most irritating comrade. And an opportunity to wipe that smirk off of the human’s face was too good to pass on.

“Out in the courtyard, in half an hour.” The qunari all but growled out.

Marian smiled back knowingly. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

xxx

It took less than ten minutes for word of the impending duel to reach all corners of Skyhold. Naturally everyone wanted to witness a battle between two of the most legendary heroes of the current Age. Practically all of Skyhold had been drawn to the yard outside the Herald’s Rest. A crude arena had been prepared in the centre of the throng. A few enterprising souls had occupied themselves by taking bets on the outcome.

Champion and Inquisitor took to preparing themselves in a tent set up by the makeshift arena. They had agreed on using light armour and only standard issue great swords for the duel, rather than their own equipment. Victor would be the one to draw first blood. Best not to damage the Inquisition’s fearless leader too much, Marian had said. Herah had nearly thrown her sword through the human’s head for that.

As they prepared, the excited chatter around the women grew in earnest. Herah heard calls for bets to be placed and hushed discussions of who was likely to win, comparing the accomplishments of the two warriors. She even heard someone moan that the Hero of Ferelden wasn’t involved.

“You sure you’re up for this?” The ever teasing voice of Marian Hawke chimed out.

Herah could practically feel the smirk from the human woman behind her. The qunari didn’t deign to turn around, preferring to adjust her gauntlets for battle.

“Oh I’m ready, just don’t fall too quickly,” The Inquisitor commented with a small smirk of her own, “I’d hate to alienate Kirkwall by felling its Champion _too_ easily.”

“Was that a joke, qunari?” Hawke asked incredulously. “I didn’t know you were capable of anything more than constant scowling.”

“Don’t forget all the marauding, pillaging and murder.” Herah commented dryly, with more than a little heat. “Nothing else we qunari like more, right?” She turned around to face her opponent.

Hawke didn’t laugh. In fact she looked more than a little uncomfortable for a moment. Then she seemed to shrug it off and the smirk was back in place.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen ran up to the pair, “are you sure this is wise, what if you’re seriously injured or …”

The look Herah sent Cullen would have petrified lesser men.

“I’m not doubting you, but we need you Inquisitor.” The Commander was evidently concerned.

“Relax Cullen, it’s only to first blood … and it’s _her_ you should be worried for.” Hearing their exchange, the Champion wiggled her eyebrows provocatively. She was having way too much fun with all this, of that Herah was certain. Herah narrowed her eyes at her opponent as she sharpened her sword with long, slow strokes of the whetstone. Cullen sighed in exasperation before trudging off to the side lines.

The Champion sauntered to one side of the yard, swinging her sword experimentally. The excited fervour of the crowd grew as they realised the duel was about to begin. Small chants grew large as the watchers urged on the combatants.

“Are you ready to dance Inquisitor?” Hawke called loudly for all the gathered crowd to hear. A loud cheer responded to her words. Evidently the Champion had quite a few fans amongst the Inquisition. Herah intended to change a few minds.

“I’m ready.” The Inquisitor commented, quiet enough for only the Champion to hear. Marian smirked wide at her words.

The two warriors each took up their defensive stances. Anticipation hushed the crowd. Then the pair began to pace around each other in a circle, waiting for the other to make the first move.

In a flash, Hawke lashed out as Herah raised her foot for a step. The qunari deftly blocked the blow and regained her footing. As soon as she’d lunged forward, the Champion was back into her defensive stance. She gave a quick wink to the Inquisitor and resumed her pacing.

_Well, she’s certainly quick._ Herah thought as she adjusted her grip on her sword.

xxx

“Well now, this is interesting.” Varric commented in awe as he watched the two warriors battle to and fro around the yard.

“What is?” Sera blurted out to his side. “They’re just whacking each other a lot, it I’nt hard or nothing.” Still, her enraptured gaze did not leave the fighters below.

“If that’s the case then why don’t you use a sword instead of your bow?” Dorian quipped dryly.

“What! Nah, it ain’t no good that. With a bow, much less getting hit yourself. You only have to worry about things flying at ya, and you can see all that and jump out the way.” Sera took a swig from her flagon, legs swinging idly.

The three of them and Cole were all sat upon the lower roof of the Heralds Rest, watching the action below.

Cole instantly looked up from the ladybird he had been observing intently on his finger. “Cold steel. Clammy in hand. Too heavy to lift on my own. Can’t do it. Can’t fight the bad people like this.”

“Urgh! Stop that will ya! Just play with your stupid bugs.” Sera scowled at Cole.

The spirit boy didn’t take any notice, as he never did. “You found another way to fight them,” Cole stated in blank certainty, “you don’t need to hit them anymore. You hit them in your own way.”

Sera sighed in exasperation as Varric and Dorian chuckled at her expense.

Eager to change the conversation, Sera asked, “So what’s so special about this then?” Gesturing to the ensuing fight below them.

“I didn’t expect them to be so closely matched.” Varric rubbed his at his chin thoughtfully as he assessed the competitors. “Though I really should have expected that they’d both take it super seriously and go at each other like this.” He winced as the Inquisitor took a mighty swing at the Champion, missing her torso by a hairs breadth.

The crowd ‘Oohed’ appropriately.

“Maker,” Dorian gasped, “It’ll be a miracle if either of them come out of this without serious injury.” Though he leaned forward as he said it, interest thoroughly piqued. “So, who are we betting on?” He turned to others with a smirk.

“Gotta be Inquisitor hasn’t it.” Sera remarked. “She’s the bloody Herald of Andraste, if she doesn’t win then we’re all in real trouble.”

“An uncharacteristically wise assessment.” Dorian inclined his head respectfully.

“Un-carrot-what?” Sera fixed the Tevinter mage with a stare, mouth slightly agape in confusion.

“Ah, that’s more like it.” Dorian returned his attention to the battle below. “I’d have to agree, though our dear Champion is certainly putting on quite the show. Thoughts, Master Tethras?”

Varric rubbed his chin even harder as the two women below fought tooth and nail. “I’m gonna have to go with the Champion.”

“What! Why?” Sera was incensed. “I mean, the Champion’s great an’ all, but the Inquisitor’s all tall and strong and … _woof_.” Human and dwarf chuckled at that, Cole barely noticed them.

“All excellent points,” Varric conceded, “but I’ve known Hawke a long time. Trust me, when she sets her mind to something, she gets it done.”

“Care to make a bet of it then?” Dorian’s eyes twinkled. “Ten silvers on the Inquisitor’s imminent victory?”

“Make it twenty, Sparkler,” Varric smirked back, “Hawke’s never let me down yet.”

A sudden thud from below them drew all their eyes downwards, even Cole’s. Their confused eyes found the upside-down eyes of the Inquisitor as she stared up at them in surprise.

xxx

_Well, this is a predicament_. Maybe that was an understatement. Herah couldn’t even tell where the Champion was anymore. Her head was locked facing up at the sky and her friends, and she had no idea why. She couldn’t even move her head. When she tried … _was that the sound of wood creaking?_

Her suspicions were confirmed as Sera burst out laughing, nearly falling off the roof. Herah tilted her head back as far as she could go. She could see the stone and wood of the wall in the side of the tavern, directly behind her. _That must mean … oh no_.

Her horns were stuck in the wooden beam.

“Do you need a hand there Inquisitor?” The call came from Marian, amusement barely contained in her voice. That amusement extended to the crowd as they realised what had just happened.

“No!” Herah barked, glaring daggers at Sera who was still rolling around laughing above the stuck qunari. She made a mental note to post the elf on patrol duty to the ruins of Haven, _alone_.

The Inquisitor closed her eyes, took a deep breath and threw her head forward with all her might. A sharp, sickening creak filled her ears. Then all of a sudden, her head was free. A sharp gasp of surprise emanated from the crowd. The Champion stood there, her easy smirk back on her face, though her eyes were not mocking, much.

A quick check with her hands told Herah that she still had both her horns. She had gained a chunk of wood though, which was securely wedged on the tip of one horn. No matter, she still had a duel to win. The qunari instantly hunched down into an aggressive stance, signalling to the human that she was ready.

The Champion nodded at her opponent, resuming her own stance. Then they were back at it again.

Each was certainly fighting to the best of their ability. Herah had to hand it to her, Marian could back up her words well enough. The qunari had fought many opponents in many duels and battles, but few had the skill and grace of the human opposite her. That only made the Inquisitor more eager to win however, as she gritted her teeth and braced against the latest onslaught. The ebb and flow of battle was understood well by both combatants. Each striking at the slimmest opening and each knowing when to block and when to retreat when necessary.

The fight continued for what seemed like an age, and the eager fans stayed with it all the way. They shouted their encouragements and surprise as one fighter appeared to get the upper hand, only for the other to meet the challenge and switch things back around. Herah wasn’t sure how long they had been duelling. She was getting tired as she noticed the sun beginning to fall in the sky. She expected Marian to be feeling the same. Both were bruised and sweaty, though no blood had been spilt yet.

After a timely parry, the Champion moved to the side to try to take a swipe at the Inquisitor. A stumble, Marian slipped on her feet. The Inquisitor pressed the attack, forcing her opponent back. The human couldn’t regain her ground quick enough, her stamina spent. The qunari pushed the human back further still, till she was pressed up against the wall of the tavern. One solid swipe forced the Champion’s sword to the side, useless. A slash back across sliced through armour. The Inquisitor instantly thrust the sword out straight, tip hovering over the Champion’s throat. The crowd was hushed.

Both breathing heavily, the two women just stood there staring at each other for a moment. Then the Champion slowly looked down and felt at her stomach, where the sword had slit a long gash in the leather armour.

She brought up her hand, blood.

That easy smirk found its way back to her lips as her body lost its tension and her chin practically rested on the tip of Herah’s outstretched blade. Spiky hair messed up about her face with all the exertion and sweat.

“Congratulations, Inquisitor.” Marian smiled at her opponent.

The crowd exploded into noise. Cheers and moans alike. Herah lowered her sword, happy, ecstatic even, but _exhausted_. The human pushed herself off the wall and walked up to the qunari offering her hand, the smile on her face was only slightly teasing for once. Herah took her opponents hand and shook firmly, despite wanting to collapse.

“You fought well.” The qunari offered, barely able to say much else. Marian smiled bashfully and didn’t quite meet the taller woman’s eyes.

“Well, I see now that all the stories about you are true, the good ones anyway.” The human replied, resting on her sword like a cane. Good to see that she’d also given everything she had to the fight.

Marian’s gaze drifted upwards from Herah’s face and she reached up to the back of the qunari’s head. Though confused, Herah didn’t stop her. She felt something strain against her head as the human woman pulled something free. Marian brought down a jagged chunk of wood, complete with a hole the perfect size and shape of Herah’s horn.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but Herah chuckled at that. It wasn’t a full blown laugh, she was far too exhausted for that, but she couldn’t stop chuckling. Marian joined in with her. The human’s face looking softer and happier than Herah had ever seen it before. It was probably the exhaustion.

Herah almost forgot the amusement and exhaustion when she noticed Varric on the roof of the tavern, handing out coin to Dorian and Sera with a pout. So he had bet against his Inquisitor had he? Maybe Sera wouldn’t be alone on her trip to Haven.


	7. Reconciliation

**Reconciliation**

_Why does she sleep atop so many damn stairs?_

She wasn’t anywhere near the top yet and Marian was nearly out of breath. She was now pretty certain that she was losing her touch. Sure, she’d been duelling with the Inquisitor not two hours ago, but she’d at least had the chance to rest and clean herself up a bit. This trek up the Inquisitor’s tower seemed like it would finish her off. The Champion might not have been quite as active as she was during all the problems in Kirkwall, but she thought that she’d managed to keep herself in top condition.

_Apparently not_ , she thought as she wiped a small bead of sweat from her forehead. She wasn’t even in her armour, favouring the casual dress she’d worn back in her home manor. One of the few relics she’d kept from her life in Kirkwall.

The Champion gradually wound her way up the seemingly endless staircase, bottle of wine under arm. A rich Antivan red, a good vintage, or so she had been promised by a certain dwarf. Varric had lived in a tavern for years so she trusted his judgment on alcohol. She idly wondered if the Inquisitor even drank wine, she hardly ever saw the horned woman in the Keep’s own tavern. Though the other qunari, The Iron Bull practically lived there. Maybe it was that Tal Vashoth didn’t drink, maybe it was taboo among their kind. Marian chuckled at the thought. Here she was extending an olive branch that might well turn out to be a horrendous insult. Still, if she turned around now she would never attempt to climb these blighted stairs again.

_Seriously, how can anyone cope with this day to day?_

Marian sighed with relief, she could see the door to the Inquisitor’s room at last. Upon reaching it, she paused, checking over herself quickly. She made sure her outfit was sitting straight and brushed her spiky black hair with her hand, not at all eager to look dishevelled in front of the qunari.

The human rapped on the door twice. A long pause, then the soft sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, it swung open a few moments later, revealing the Lady Inquisitor.

Herah Adaar was no longer dressed in the battle armour that Marian had mostly only seen her in until now. The taller woman was adorned simply, in dark brown breeches and a loose white shirt. Short sleeves baring gracefully strong forearms. Her medium white hair let down from its usual ponytail to cascade down the back of her head and over her horns at the sides. She was biting at her lower lip slightly, at the side where her scar from the dragon fight was. What with the way that the qunari was leaning against the doorframe slightly – her head tilted to expose one side of an elegantly long neck – It all made for an attractive image.

_Did I just think that?_

“… Yes?” Herah raised a questioning eyebrow.

Marian belatedly realised she’d been staring and had not said a word.

“Err … I- Yes,” The fabled Champion of Kirkwall stuttered out, “peace offering?” Marian offered, holding up the wine and a smile.

Herah merely stared at her blankly, eyebrows slightly raised in question or surprise, Marian couldn’t tell either way. Human and qunari stood there awkwardly in silence for a moment.

A horrified thought came to the Champions lips, “It’s not poison if that’s what you’re worried about!”

The qunari continued to stare, one eyebrow rose slightly above the other, lips slightly parted as if in thought or about to question.

“Look, I’ll prove it!” Marian quickly spluttered out before sense could stop her.

In a flash, the human un-stoppered the bottle with her teeth and spat the cork out over the banister, Herah’s eyes followed the cork down for a long moment. Without waiting for sense to take hold, Marian gulped down a quick swig. Too quick. She began choking barely a moment later in front of the unmoving grey skinned woman before her.

“Thag- That wa- was an-” The ever graceful Champion gasped out between coughs.

“I have flagons upstairs.” Herah offered before Marian could tear her throat up anymore, inclining her head up the stairs behind her.

“Ah- good, fl- flagons are good.” The human managed to splutter out between even more coughs.

The Inquisitor nodded and turned to walk back to her room, Marian thought she noticed a small upward turn to the taller woman’s lips as she did so.

She followed the Inquisitor up the final flight when she fully stopped choking, feeling her cheeks were practically glowing. Despite the irritation in her throat and the incessant blushing from embarrassment, Marian couldn’t help but stop to admire the room.

A warm fireplace crackled away invitingly in the front of the room, a spacious settee lay before it. Despite the ridiculous height of the tower, someone had managed to get a large four poster bed up all of those stairs. A large desk was also present, making a rather smart study in the corner of the room. The windows were finely decorated in delicate stained glass, and then there was the view itself. Though it was approaching nightfall, Marian could see for miles still. The mountains surrounding Skyhold cradled the expanse of open sky, already turning orange as the sun slowly fell over the horizon.

The human gave a low whistle as she gazed about with a genuinely impressed grin. “Nice set up you have here.”

Herah chuckled a little, retrieving a pair of flagons from the desk.

“It’s all too much really,” The Inquisitor answered somewhat bashfully, “I’ve tried arguing with Josephine that I don’t need all this, but well, she says the Inquisitor must keep to appearances or something like that.” She passed a flagon to the Champion and moved over to the settee, gazing thoughtfully into the fire.

“Not to your tastes?” Marian quizzed as she joined her companion then poured them both a drink. “I can’t say I blame you, what with the stairs and all.” She smirked.

“It’s all lovely, just … just not what I’m used to.” The expression on the qunari’s face was softer than Marian had ever seen. A sad glint was in her eyes, or maybe that was just the fire. “I didn’t come from finery and … all this.” She finished, lazily gesturing to the room around them.

“Oh, so where did Herah Adaar come from?” The Champion asked, genuinely interested.

The qunari paused for a long moment before answering, her expression hesitant, as if she were gauging what to say. Or maybe what she could trust to say.

“From the Free Marches originally. If you couldn’t tell by my accent, we travelled around a lot.” Herah’s gaze turned to the fire, eyes glazed in memory. “My parents left the Qun before I was born.” She took a sip from her flagon. “My earliest memories are of us just wandering from place to place mostly. Even though they’d abandoned the Qun and that life, everyone here treats qunari as invaders, monsters.”

Herah noticed that Marian shifted in her seat, more than a little uncomfortably. The qunari sighed.

“Listen,” Herah began with a note of frustration, “I’ve noticed that every time my … being a qunari is mentioned you get all uncomfortable. You’ve already apologised for how you treated me when you got here. So what is it now?” The Inquisitor couldn’t keep a tone of bitterness out of her voice, she wasn’t trying to antagonise the human woman now, but she was eternally frustrated by her.

“I’m sorry, I just-” Marian paused with a sigh and took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I know that how I acted when we first met was completely out of line.”

Herah raised her eyebrows as if to say, ‘ _you think?’_

“It’s just that- you’ve proved me wrong in so many ways since then. You deserve more than a half-baked apology in the pouring rain out in some backwater.”

The qunari was taken back by the frankness of the confession. She opened her mouth to speak but then-

“Not that there’s anything wrong with Crestwood.” Marian added with an impish smile, which Herah chuckled to.

“I think you made up for your bad attitude when you … you know, saved my life.” The Inquisitor said the last very quietly.

The human gazed into her flagon with a bashful smile – not a smirk for once. “Listen, you were right before. When you said how you weren’t responsible for all the things qunari have done, and then … what you said about mages and the Blights.”

“I’m surprised you even remember that.” The Inquisitor raised a curious eyebrow.

Marian sighed heavily, “It just- it proved what a massive hypocrite I was. Am? Was, I hope.” She admitted, cheeks reddening quickly. “It just got me thinking about my sister. She’s a mage, but she’s no more responsible for the Blights than … than a butterfly. She’s less dangerous than one too. Don’t tell her I said that.”

Herah chuckled warmly into her flagon at that.

“You’re not responsible for anything any other qunari’s done, I know that, and I’m sorry for ever thinking that. So, I think what I’m trying to say is that I’ll try not to be so awkward around your qunari … ness anymore.” Marian’s smile was small but honest, then her gaze lifted up to Herah’s horns and the smile became a smirk. “Besides, I genuinely do like your horns.” Marian offered, giving said horns an appraising look, the qunari appeared to be struggling not to fidget at the comment.

“Thank you … I think.” Was all she said, she took to busying herself with her drink as a light flush rose on her cheeks.

“Anyway,” Marian started with a small cough, “so you were talking about your family … you never settled down at all?”

Herah regarded the human with an appraising eye for a brief moment more, before turning to face the fire. “Oh, we tried.” The qunari answered with a sigh, her mind returning to her past. “But before too long, the locals would gather the courage to drive us out of whatever home we’d made for ourselves, every single time.” She finished, sounding more fatigued than bitter. Herah took a deeper swig of her wine.

“What about your parents,” Marian tried to redirect the conversation before it became too nihilistic, “what were they like?”

A small smile sprouted on Herah’s dark grey lips. “My mother was a merchant, dealing in books and scrolls and things. She told me she used to be a teacher of sorts under the Qun, a Tamassran I think it’s called? Anyway, she loved stories, had so many of them.” Herah’s smile grew wider and softer at the memory. “She used to tell me the most amazing tales about people all over Thedas. Particularly the ones about knights and warriors, they were my favourite.”

Marian found it hard not to smile at the image of a tiny horned girl listening to epic tales and legends and letting her imagination run wild. She also idly realised this was the most she had ever heard the qunari speak to her. _And it isn’t all about suffering terrible racism, success!_ Maybe it was just the wine and not Hawke’s insatiable charm, but it was working, whatever it was.

“My father though, he was a mercenary like I am – like I was – I guess. He was the strongest man I ever knew, and the best fighter. But he was so gentle with me and mother.” Marian noted the qunari’s use of past tense. “Back when he was in the Qun, he was a warrior there too, but he didn’t … like what he was doing.”

“… And that was?” Marian probed when Herah didn’t continue right away.

“He never told me everything, but I did find out that he was responsible for guarding mages. The way my father looked when I asked him about it … it must have been more than simply chaining them up.”

Marian could easily believe that, memories of the bound mage Ketojan flew through the Champions mind.

“They sound like good people.” Marian offered with a slight smile.

“They were.” Herah agreed with a vacant smile, she rested her head on the back of the settee, gazing straight up at the ceiling. Her free arm folded across her chest to rub at her other arm, almost comfortingly. “I miss them.”

Marian could tell from her tone that Herah was unlikely to ever see them again.

“What about you?” The qunari asked suddenly, eager to change the subject.

“I- Well, I lost my father when we were little. My brother, he was killed during the Blight. My mother … she died too.” Marian offered, likewise taking to lean back and stare at the ceiling, eyes glazing a little in thought of her family. “I’ve only got my sister and uncle left really. I suppose I’ve got a cousin too, but I’ve only known her a short while.”

Herah straightened her head and chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “I had heard … no, sorry, I shouldn’t pay mind to any rumours about you.”

Marian chuckled at that. “It’s fine, they’re probably all true anyway, especially the fun ones.” She winked at the qunari and received a snicker in reply.

“Is that so?” Herah questioned with a slight smirk. “So the one about you charging into the Deep Roads to find a dwarven treasure trove, and fighting hordes of possessed rock monsters?”

“It was a bit more complicated than that, but totally true.” The human answered with a lazy grin.

“What about the one where you sneaked into an Orlesian noble’s manor just to steal a worthless gem?”

“Ok technically there was no gem,” Marian conceded with her hands up, “But I did manage to prevent a massacre across Thedas.” Herah raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Remind me to tell you another time.”

“Alright, and the one with you singlehandedly duelling the Knight Commander of Kirkwall, in nothing but your smallclothes?” The Inquisitor asked with an impish grin.

That stopped Marian short.

“Wha- where did you hear that?” The Champion demanded, mouth agape. Herah chuckled at the human’s shock. “It wasn’t Isabela was it?”

“Who?” Herah asked nonplussed.

“Never mind, it was probably her.” Marian took another sip from her flagon, internally worrying what else the lady pirate might have spread about her in her ‘friend-fiction’.

“Well then,” Herah moaned as she rolled her long neck side to side till it cracked, “not every tale about you is true then.”

“I guess not,” Marian agreed, “I do have to leave some tall tales for you to accomplish I suppose.” She added with a smirk.

“I’m not fighting Corypheus naked if that’s what you’re implying.” Herah fixed Marian with a glare.

The human stared right back with a cheeky smile. “Why not,” Marian joked, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, I know I wouldn’t.”

A voice inside Marian had a heart attack at the audacity of her comment. Still she held the qunari’s gaze with a lazy smirk. Herah stared back at her uncertainly, eyes slightly narrowed. Something seemed to pass between them, what it was exactly, Marian couldn’t say.

“I’d rather not fight you again in any state of undress.” The qunari answered slowly. “At least not in- as earnestly as before.” She staggered out.

“Spoilsport,” Marian pouted playfully, “I’d have thought you’d have enjoyed it, a chance to test yourself against the famous Champion of Kirkwall.” She emphasised her words with a series of suitable heroic postures. She received a bashful chuckle in return, until she flexed her stomach and a shot of pain reverberated through her abdomen.

“What’s wrong, are you hurt?” Herah set her flagon aside, moving closer to the human in concern.

“What? Oh, it’s nothing.” Marian waved off Herah’s concern. In truth her wound did sting, but nothing too serious.

Herah’s eyes suddenly widened. “It was our duel, I injured you.” Her eyes glanced repeatedly to Marian’s stomach where she’d been cut. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. Are you alright?”

“Of course, I’m fine,” Marian relaxed back into the settee and took a swig from her flagon to emphasise her point, “I’m a tough girl you know.” She flashed the qunari her best winning smile.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have engaged you in the duel like that in the first place. It was foolish and unprofessional.” The qunari looked almost embarrassed.

“I did goad you into it.” Marian chuckled. Only a few weeks ago she was making all kinds of prejudiced judgments and accusations of the woman next to her, now she was trying to reassure her.

_Never do things by half do you Marian?_

Herah chuckled somewhat nervously. “I guess you did, but I still shouldn’t have responded like that.” But her smile came back in full. “It was a good duel in any event, you’re an accomplished warrior.”

Marian raised her flagon in toast. “Likewise Horns.”

“Horns?” Herah questioned with a raised eyebrow.

The human gestured with her flagon to said horns atop the qunari’s head. “It’s either that or ‘Horny Herah’, take what you can get.” Marian quipped with her smirk back in place.

Herah shook her head in confusion, though Marian noticed she chuckled a little under her breath. “You are a very strange human, stranger than most I’ve known.”

“They don’t just make anyone Champion you know.” Said Champion winked playfully at her companion.

“Evidently not.” Herah commented with a small smile.

Marian poured them both some more wine before replying. “I guess Inquisitor’s are a more … exclusive club then?” Herah turned to face the human again with a quizzical look. “You know, the kind of people who walk in and out of the fade, face down ancient darkspawn monsters and the like.”

“You fought Corypheus before, and accomplished countless more feats than I have.”

“Maybe, but the last time I looked the faithful weren’t worshipping me as their Herald and saviour.” Herah shuffled in her seat a little uncomfortably at mention of her miraculous religious status. “Maybe it’s all luck or chance, but I don’t believe that. If it was I’d have your job right now.” Marian winked at the qunari.

“If I could, I’d pass it onto you, if you truly wanted it.” Herah held up her hand to casually inspect, the one marked by the anchor. “I don’t think this would let me though.” She murmured a little sadly.

Marian regarded the qunari curiously for a couple of moments before replying.

“You know, when I became Champion, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew that things would change for me of course, but I couldn’t tell how. For a while I even feared that they’d make me Viscount, just imagine that.” She chuckled in spite of herself.

Herah turned her gaze back to the human, her silvery eyes attentive once more. “What happened?”

“They gave me a medal, and then expected me to solve every damn problem in the city. Other than that, nothing much,” Marian smiled, “I still did my usual work, went about trying to keep the peace – as much as it can be kept in Kirkwall – doing favours for friends, making enemies. You know, the usual.”

“But … you say nothing changed much?”

Marian stretched idly before answering, “Depends how you look at it really. Sure things looked a lot different at times, but it all amounted to the same. I still fought groups of scumbags, and had to make deals with scumbags, and wrangle with other scumbags, sometimes all at once. It was just that, when I became Champion, the first scumbags got better armour and training, and the second and third scumbags got fancier clothes and titles.”

Herah murmured noncommittedly, staring off into the flickering fire.

“It’s a bit like you and the Inquisition I reckon. You must have been … I don’t now, a caravan guard at some point before all of this right?”

Herah nodded with something of a furrowed brow. “Sometimes.”

“Well, look at it this way, the Inquisition is your caravan to protect. Corypheus, the Venatori and the Red Templars are all just a pack of wild animals and bandits. Sure it’s a lot bigger and more complex than that, but the principle is the same.”

“And the stakes are higher.” Herah breathed in a ragged breath, eyes falling darkly.

Marian wasn’t going to let her descend that easily though. “But you’ve also got more allies at your back. How many of the Valo-Kas would have protected a caravan, half a dozen or so? You’ve got an entire army out there willing to stand at your back. They’ll follow you anywhere, believe me, I’ve talked to a few of them. That’s not even including all of your spies and saboteurs, scouts, your little circle of companions, your advisors, and the Champion of Kirkwall of course.” She finished with a shining grin.

Herah managed a small chuckle, her eyes lifting again. “You make it sound so simple. I wish I could see things as clearly as you do.”

“That’s why Varric invited me after all.” The Champion winked playfully, and then her face became earnest. “But seriously, you are doing a great job of keeping everyone safe. You must be doing something pretty special.” Marian offered with a small honest smile.

Herah shrugged off the comment. “Not really, if it wasn’t me, they’d have probably given the Inquisition to some sheep farmer who charges into battle naked.”

Marian nearly choked on her wine at that. Laughing, she faced the Inquisitor. Though chuckling herself, Herah’s silver eyes were warm, giving thanks for the compliment.

“You do joke, Lady Qunari!” The human responded with glee.

“It’s just your imagination,” said qunari narrowed her eyes at the flagon in her hand, “Or this wine.”

“Not a fan?” Marian teased with a poke to the qunari’s side, Herah responded with a small glare. “Well then, when I defeat you in our next duel, you can pick the peace offering.”

“Is that a challenge?” The Inquisitor asked with the ghost of a playful grin.

“You bet your horns it is.” Marian’s smirk was wide and playful.

Herah considered the human for moment before responding. “Alright, I suppose I could give you a chance to win back some semblance of dignity.” The qunari’s glinted with humour.

“It’s a date then.” Marian replied with a wink. Herah’s cheeks flared a little, probably just the wine.

The pair continued to talk of simple things, from the unlikeliest tales of their wildest adventures, to the bizarre antics of their friends and companions. Neither of them noticed the sun go down as they continued talking. They carried on for a while like that, just talking in front of the open fire, a drink in hand and good company to talk to.

Just an Inquisitor and a Champion.


	8. A Healing Hand

**A Healing Hand**

Warm sunlight greeted Marian as she slowly opened her eyes, its rays cascading through delicately crafted glasswork. The snow topped mountains lay in the distance, illuminated by the morning sun. Hearing the distant morning birdsong brush against her senses, the Champion of Kirkwall was at peace. The fire had long since faded, the handsome fireplace standing empty and proud across from the couch.

Gentle shifting and a murmur drew her attention back towards herself. Sleepily Marian shifted her head, brow furrowed at the noise. What she found made her brow practically shoot through the roof.

Lying there – lying on her even – was the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, otherwise known as Herah Adaar. The grey skinned woman was still asleep, her head resting on Marian’s shoulder, her horns poked into the back of the furniture. Long, powerful legs curled up to allow the qunari room to fit along with the human on the furniture. Most notable of all to Marian was that the taller woman’s arms were draped around the Champion’s stomach.

_Huh, this is different._

Eyebrows still firmly sky high, and unlikely to come down for a while, Marian managed to manoeuvre her left arm out of the qunari’s embrace to rub at her eyes. What had happened last night? Wracking her brains, the human woman recalled going up the qunari’s room, offering her some wine, after choking on it herself she remembered with a light smirk. After that they were talking … and then, they just fell asleep? That must have been it.

She idly noted that both Champion and Inquisitor were still clothed, Marian wasn’t entirely sure what difference that fact would make. She imagined that the grey skinned woman would be pretty damn annoyed at their current position, let alone … anything else.

Taking a deep, but very gentle breath lest she wake her sleeping companion, Marian resolved to try to escape before the Inquisitor woke up … easier said than done.

The human narrowed her eyes in concentration as she tried to wriggle her right arm free, however it was firmly wedged between the two women. The Champion spent a good fifteen minutes in vain trying to ease her arm out of the impromptu embrace. The qunari had other ideas it seemed. Perhaps sensing the disturbance, Herah shifted in her sleep, pulling the human woman closer and turning her head into Marian, opting to use her chest as a pillow.

The Inquisitor murmured a contented sigh as the Champion muttered a frustrated one. This was becoming more awkward by the minute. Still if she could survive the qunari’s wrath when she woke this would make a good drinking story, how the Inquisitor quite literally couldn’t keep her hands off her.

_Maybe best not to tell Varric, he’d only turn it into his next bestseller_ , Marian thought with a smirk.

With nowhere to go the human woman opted to just see things out and rested her hand on the back of the sleeping qunari. Herah’s lips turned into the most adorable little smile when she did that. It was all just another surprise to Marian, she never expected to see the Inquisitor so … peaceful. In her woken, sober state, the grey skinned woman was all steel, at all times, even when the occasional joke escaped her lips or a small smile settled there. Right now it was very hard to believe the woman lying on top of her was the Herald of Andraste, the leader of the Inquisition and a warrior of righteous justice. She was Herah, a very sleepy and contented qunari.

Suddenly, Herah’s dark eyelashes fluttered a little, shortly followed by the opening of her eyes. It took her a few moments to gain her bearings, leaving a cute little confused expression on her face. Then she looked up and found Marian’s very awake, very smirking eyes. The qunari’s eyes widened almost comically.

It was at this point that Marian realised she probably should have pretended to still be asleep, feign ignorance and hope the other woman didn’t try to murder her. Well, it was too late for that now.

“Uh … hi.” Marian offered with what she hoped was a confident, winning smile.

Herah said nothing for a few moments. The human could practically see the cogs turning in the confused qunari’s mind. The Inquisitor turned her head down to look at the position they were in.

“Did you sleep well? ‘cause I sure-” The Champion got no further than that as the Inquisitor practically leapt off her, in a heartbeat she was six feet and still backing away from the settee. Marian idly noticed an abrupt coldness swept over her and it wasn’t entirely from the sudden lack of the other woman’s presence next to her, or maybe it was.

“I- you- we-” Herah stuttered out as her cheeks blossomed in an endearing display of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have …” She ran out of words and covered her face with a hand as she thought of what to say.

Marian got up from the settee and edged over to the qunari, somewhat surprised with how quick she was to try to reassure the other woman.

“It’s alright, it’s not like we … did anything.” The Champion offered calmly, flashing the qunari what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “Unless you qunari like to do it clothed.” The feeble attempt at a joke slipped out before Marian could stop herself.

Herah’s cheeks flushed even more, if that were possible. “I- Yes well, well if you excuse me I have … important duties to attend to.” Herah stammered out, trying to put the steel back into her voice. Grey cheeks still glowing profusely, the Herald of Andraste strode over to the stairs. She got nearly a dozen steps down before pausing. She looked down at her dishevelled, casual attire in alarm then marched straight back up.

Marian snickered lightly at the grey skinned woman’s disorientation, finding the whole display adorable.

“But first, I’d better, erm, change.” Herah muttered quietly, hastening over to the dresser, looking decidedly embarrassed. She bustled past the human without looking at her.

Still smirking slightly Marian opened her mouth to speak, but-

“Could I have some privacy please?” The qunari’s clipped demand swiftly shut down Marian before she could try to ease the agitated woman.

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed you know.” Then because she couldn’t help herself Marian added, “I won’t tell anyone how clingy you get when-”

“Hawke! Leave! Now!” The Inquisitor’s head swung around to face her, fire and fury burning in her eyes.

Taken aback, the Champion held her hands up in surrender.

“Alright, as you command, _Herald_.” Marian sketched a sarcastic bow, unable to prevent a little bitterness from creeping into her voice.

Herah turned back to face out of the stained glass, keeping her expression from the human’s eyes.

The Champion shook her head slightly with a sigh and made to retreat down the stairs. A part of her was amused at the way the qunari had reacted, and it was certainly better than being beaten to death with a fire poker. Another, larger part of her felt, for want of a better word, hurt.

xxx

Cole loved nothing more than to help people, all people, regardless of who they were. Well that wasn’t completely true, he didn’t like to help the bad people. The ones who made it their mission in life to hurt others, to make people suffer. He didn’t like them. They were bad people who didn’t deserve his help. Most people, fortunately, were not like that. Like in the Inquisition, there were many good people here. Many of these good people had hurts that Cole could help with. Often these hurts were physical. Many of the soldiers were treated here, the blood and the fear and the crying was common to the lower courtyard. Cole spent much of his time there, particularly after a big battle, when there seemed to be even more people who needed his help.

Sometimes he would take some freshly baked bread from the kitchens and give it to a soldier who missed his mother’s cooking. Others he would talk to, telling them that their wife didn’t hate them, that she forgave them for what they did. And sometimes the only thing he could do was offer a word of calm and a swift, sharp blade.

It all helped, in one way or another.

Some hurts though were trickier, giving comfort and peace was one thing, especially to someone who could get better soon or wouldn’t be around long enough to worry about the future. No, some hurts went on much longer, and didn’t have a loaf of bread or a comforting word to fix them. Some hurts he knew even he couldn’t fix, not on his own at least. This new hurt was just like that.

He focussed on the feelings to get a better understanding: _loneliness, surrounded by people, still lonely, forever, undeserving, unwanted, don’t know, no … idea_. Then Cole had an idea.

The spirit boy drifted down from the rafters of the tavern, brushing past a few of the serving girls as he did, they didn’t pay him any mind. No one did. Not when he didn’t want them to. Cole glided past the tables and chairs and straight up to the bar, there was hardly anyone in at this time, merely the barkeeper, barmaids and The Iron Bull, laying across four chairs, asleep, as he usually was on a morning. A handful of people were also littered about the tavern, all on their own and all drinking this early. From the look on their faces and the feelings they held, they wanted or needed it. Cole knew that it wouldn’t really help. Cole could help them later. Right now he had another, more urgent hurt to heal.

Walking right behind the bar, Cole was left unchallenged, even as he took a flagon from beneath the bar and moved over to the barrel of ale at the back wall. This all went unnoticed by the barkeeper barely two feet away, who continued to clean empty flagons whilst whistling a song out of tune. One of the barmaids gave the dwarf a weary look and sighed as she continued to clean the floors. None of them noticed the sloshing of ale as Cole filled the flagon.

The spirit boy turned to leave and then stopped by the bar. He calmly grabbed an empty flagon and carefully balanced it upside down on the dwarfs head. Still completely unnoticed by anyone, Cole calmly breezed out of the tavern and up towards the keep. Halfway up to the steps he heard the breakout of quiet laughter back from the tavern. Cole paid it no mind and carried onwards.

Entering the keep, he moved over to the left, to where the stonemason Gatsi worked. The dwarf was working on some kind of thin stone image. Cole couldn’t make any sense of it. It had a lot of people facing one way with a lot of people facing the other way. Things were all around the edges and everywhere there weren’t people. Opting not to understand the image, Cole deftly placed the full tankard on the table behind the dwarf and moved away back to the tavern.

A surprised _huh_ told Cole that Gatsi had turned around and found the flagon. The spirit boy turned to see the dwarf surreptitiously gaze about, seeing nothing, the dwarf licked his lips and took a sip of the golden ale. An exaggerated sigh escaped his lips and with a smile he turned back to his work.

The door to the right of the chamber opened and Varric the storyteller walked out, taking his usual place at the table by the fire. Normally Cole would have been happy to talk to Varric. Varric knew lots of things, most of which Cole wasn’t even sure was real, but he liked to hear them all the same. But he couldn’t, not right now anyway, he needed to leave Varric where he was. So Cole kept himself hidden.

Another highly satisfied sigh from the other side of the chamber caused Varric to look up from his papers, narrowing his eyes as he spotted the other dwarf enjoying his ale. Cole watched as Varric’s brow became a little more furrowed and he licked his lips ever so slightly.

The spirit boy turned again to leave. _Good_ , he thought, _this could work_. Now he just needed to find some honey.

xxx

Marian reached the base of the Inquisitor’s tower much more deflated than when she was going the other way, she wasn’t entirely sure why though. Opening the door to the tower and into the central chamber, she found that Skyhold had fully woken up, people milling about their business to and fro. If any of them noticed or were curious as to why the Champion of Kirkwall had just come down from the Inquisitor’s private tower none of them showed it.

_Good_ , thought Marian as she strode over to the great doors that led to the courtyard. Before she got to the door however, she eyed her favourite dwarf out of the corner of her eye. She made to wave at Varric, she wasn’t feeling her companionable self, but she couldn’t just ignore the storyteller. However, said storyteller was doing a good job of ignoring her.

“Varric.” Marian nodded at the dwarf, but he didn’t acknowledge her.

She tried a high pitched whistle, nothing. She was stood right in front of him now but he opted to stare right past her.

“Hello, Varric?” The Champion called in a singsong voice with an exaggerated wave. “The Carta called, they want their money back.”

Still nothing.

“They said that they’ll take Bianca if you don’t pay.”

That snapped the dwarf out of his stupor, the short man whipping his gaze around for any Carta thugs after his precious crossbow. He visibly relaxed when he realised he was safe.

“Hawke, shit, sorry.” Varric smiled apologetically and scratched his bristly chin. “I was miles away.”

“Right,” The human muttered dryly, “and I was just beginning to feel unwanted around here.”

“Come on Hawke, you know I always want you around.” Varric offered with a grin. “Sure you can be a bit of a pain at times, but who else can I make ridiculous stories out of their life histories? It’s because of your crazy adventures that I’m a bestseller in six countries.” He finished with a winning smile.

“Ah, sorry Varric,” Marian rubbed at her temple with a lame smile, “just had a … a bad morning, that’s all.” That seemed to peak the dwarf’s interest, and his eyebrow.

“Oh? That sounds like more than the I-got-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed kind of morning.”

The Champion half chuckled, half sighed at that, shaking her head at the floor. “I can never keep anything from you can I dwarf?” She teased, a bit of the old Hawke humor twinkling in her eyes.

“Not even if your life depended on it.” Varric smirked at his friend, taking her by the arm. “Come on, let’s get a drink.” He started leading Marian towards the tavern.

“A drink? I know your people can’t get enough of the stuff, but really Varric? It’s not even midday.” The dwarf just patted her on the back.

“Don’t worry about it, you can do the talking, and I’ll drink for the both of us.” That earned him a laugh from the human.

“Oh no, I’ll not have you drinking all on your own.” She had a feeling she might need one, or four.

“Then it’s settled.” Varric opened the door to the tavern as Marian chuckled again.

The Herald’s Rest was one of Marian’s favourite parts of Skyhold, whoever built this place knew what they were doing, putting a tavern inside the fortress walls. A soft snore drew the human’s gaze over to the other side of the room where The Iron Bull was still sleeping haphazardly. Shaking her head in amusement, Marian followed Varric into the tavern. They took up a table near the fire in the centre of the room, Varric ordering ale for the pair of them, his treat. When they arrived, Varric set into his flagon with gusto.

“Someone’s thirsty.” Marian commented with a raised eyebrow at the dwarf’s impressive foamy moustache.

“What can I say? I just had a sudden urge.” Varric wiped the foam from his face then his expression became more serious. “Now, what’s up with you Hawke? What’s this nonsense about feeling _unwanted_?” He said the last with a poor impersonation of the Champion’s voice, which made her chuckle at least. “Everyone wants you, or wants to be you, or both. So what’s up?”

“It’s, err …” Marian stumbled before finding her words. “It’s the Inquisitor.”

Varric had nearly drained his flagon already. He put it down at the same time as his empty hand with a quizzical expression. “Hold on, you haven’t been making more trouble have you, because she’s got horns? You better not be causing any more trouble for me Hawke, the Seeker nearly gutted me when you first got here.”

“What, no! No! I’d actually apologised but- Well I don’t know.” That was something she hadn’t considered, though she’d apologised, that didn’t necessarily mean the other woman had actually forgiven her. That would explain the qunari’s attitude earlier. But then why was the Inquisitor so open with her the night before, about her family and everything? None of this made any sense!

“What do you mean you don’t know? Just, tell me what happened, Hawke.” Varric rubbed at his eyes with a sigh, feeling that this was going to be more complicated than he first thought.

The Champion sighed and began to recount her tale of everything that happened from going up to the Inquisitor’s private tower, peace offering in hand. When Hawke was done explaining things in detail however, including the qunari nearly kicking her off the top of the tower that morning, Varric could barely contain his chuckles.

“It’s not funny!” Marian had to fight the urge to launch her mostly full flagon at the sniggering dwarf.

“It is really.” Varric gathered control of himself again, though he let a smile through. “You were ready to tear the Inquisitor’s throat out when you first saw her, and now …” He gestured at Marian without finishing.

The human was becoming increasingly frustrated by the dwarf, the qunari, everything.

“ _And now_ …” the Champion imitated the smug dwarf’s voice, hoping to prompt an answer.

“And now you _like_ her.” Varric finished simply with an irritatingly smug grin.

“Sure?” Marian threw her hands up in perplexed exasperation. “I don’t think she’s a mad, mass murdering, maniac.” She muttered sarcastically. Again Varric chuckled, the Champion couldn’t get her head around it.

“That too,” another smirk from the storyteller, “nice alliteration by the way, you should think about becoming a writer yourself.”

Marian sighed, she was beginning to regret coming to Varric with this. She knew what he was getting at though.

“Ok … yes, I _like_ her.” Marian finally drawled out.

Varric’s eyebrows and the corners of his mouth rose with amusement at the confession. Marian was bit surprised herself to be saying it, but there it was.

The human narrowed her eyes dangerously at the dwarf before continuing. “Not one smart remark, dwarf. I know I was wrong ok, there I said it. That’s why I apologised in the first place, because she’s nothing like how I expected her to be.” A small smile fell across Marian’s lips. “She’s good and kind, and she stands up for people in need.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “She’s got a bit of humour under her armour too … not to mention she looks damn good in it.” She wiggled her eyebrows despite herself. “Damn good with a sword as well let me tell you.” A frown settled over her face. “But just when I think I’m … on the same level with her, she throws a fit and shoves me away.”

The dwarf merely hummed noncommittally, though there was a twinkle of … something in his eyes.

“You know, you’re not really helping here Varric. If you know why she’s being so strange with me just come right out and say it.”

The dwarf got up and patted the human on the shoulder. “Just think on it, I’m sure you’ll come up with an answer.” He made his way out of the tavern, flagon in hand.

“That’s it? No advice, no clever jokes, no … anything?”

“I’m sure the fearless Champion of Kirkwall can deal with a little lovesickness. Besides, it’s more fun that way, letting you stumble around like a pining schoolgirl.” Varric winked at her.

Completely exasperated now, Marian banged her head on the table with a groan and left it there.

“But seeing as you’re completely hopeless,” Varric continued, “how about trying to talk to her? You know, show her that famous Hawke charm.”

“Thanks for the help Varric.” She called out sarcastically.

“Anytime Hawke, anytime.” The dwarf replied with another chuckle.

Marian sighed heavily for what felt like the millionth time this last month against the wooden table top. Honestly she could hardly believe it herself. She _liked_ the Inquisitor, as Varric put it. What was it, love? No, not love, not yet anyway. Still, though she could be moderately honest with how she felt, the Champion had no idea if Herah even felt anything remotely the same way. Knowing her luck, the qunari would probably be strictly homophobic. Marian chuckled in spite of her situation, it would almost be fitting given how she’d initially reacted to the grey skinned woman’s … grey skin, and horns.

Picking her head off of the table, Marian had no clearer idea of what to do. Just ‘talk to her’ Varric had said, easier said than done. Still, it was better than nothing and she had no other ideas.

She was just about to drag herself out of her chair and leave the tavern when she noticed something shiny pooling at the corner of the table. A long strand of the golden liquid extended up into the rafters.

_Is that … honey? Coming from the ceiling?_

xxx

_Herah Adaar: Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, Stupid-rude-bitch._

Herah sighed as walked through Skyhold, silently reprimanding herself. She passed numerous people, soldiers, diplomats, servants, many of which tried to get her attention. She just murmured noncommittally and carried on, lost in her own thoughts. Truthfully she didn’t have a destination, the qunari just needed to walk and think for a while.

She soon found herself in the armoury, which was blissfully empty at that time in the morning. Thankful for the solitude, the Inquisitor took to pacing about with only her thoughts for company.

She didn’t know why she’d been so … irritable with the Champion earlier. Unease, anger, shame, all unreasonable emotions yet she’d felt them in earnest. Now that those feelings had passed, she was alarmed at how embarrassed she felt, not to mention with how she’d reacted to those emotions. Herah didn’t think that she particularly cared for the human woman or what she thought, they practically hated each other at their first meeting and had only recently come to something of a civil relationship. Yet here and now, the horned woman was anxious about what would be said or done when they next met. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to apologise, to make amends on a level deeper than just a simple misunderstanding.

She wasn’t sure why though. She did not know precisely why she’d opened up so much to the human woman last night. She’d never done that with anyone before, her life was a closed book, locked and sealed away. It had always been hers to know and hers alone. Sure, there were still some people in the world who knew about her past. A few family friends in the Valo-Kas mercenaries, and Leliana the Spymaster probably knew everything about her. The redhead seemed to know everything. Herah never talked about herself at all though, with anyone. She’d made seldom few trusted friends throughout the years and even they never learned her full story, and what they did know came over time.

So what made Marian so different? It wasn’t her manners or tact that was certain. It also wasn’t like the Champion had shown herself to be particularly trustworthy, not that she had given the Inquisitor any real reason not to trust her, aside from her initial bigotry of course. Perhaps there was something else about the other woman that Herah found so striking. Still, even if Herah reluctantly admitted to herself that the human woman was somewhat attractive – in spite of her irritating, smug smirk – that was hardly a reason. What made the woman, who never took anything seriously and who acted like an arrogant bigot when they first met, so different to Herah? Maker knows the Champion acted like no one else in all of Thedas.

Maybe that was it Herah thought, pausing in realisation. Marian never acted like anyone else did around the qunari. Where others would worship the ground she walked on and bow, Marian would laugh and joke. Where others would shun and stare, Marian would tease and prod for a reaction. Even when the Champion had treated the Inquisitor like a dangerous criminal, there was something different in her eyes that Herah had not seen before. It was almost as if Marian had always seen Herah as an equal of sorts, not as vermin to be spat at or a figure of legend. Was that really all it was?

The qunari was drawn from her thoughts by the rustling of something out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly alert to her surroundings, the Inquisitor snapped to attention and cautiously approached the disturbance by the door. A chair abruptly jostled in its place by the table to her left and the faint sound of panting could be heard. Brow furrowed in confusion, Herah slowly knelt down to look under the table.

Two beady amber eyes greeted her and a shiny black nose, attached to a small mass of taupe fur. The creature had two large ears and a fat bushy tail that wagged gently as the beast tilted its head to inspect the qunari.

Wait, she’d seen these things before, they were called … fennecs if she remembered rightly. Herah had seen them from time to time on her travels. She’d never given them much thought before, but up close they were very, very cute. The Inquisitor had never seen them anywhere near Skyhold however, where did this one come from?

The fennec padded towards her and began sniffing at her. She slowly reached out with her hand, the fennec edged closer and began to lick at her fingers.

_Ok, this thing is now my favourite creature._ Herah thought with a small smile.

The fennec’s nose twitched abruptly, the fury beast moved its head away, sniffing at the air. Then without a look back it made its way over to the door and out into the courtyard.

“Hey, where are you going?” Herah got up and made to follow the fennec. Out in the courtyard she eyed the troublesome fox padding over to the Herald’s Rest, long ears perked up in interest.

Rolling her eyes a little, nothing was ever normal around Skyhold, Herah made for the tavern. Best to catch the little fella and find his owner, assuming he had one. She couldn’t believe that one little fox had managed to climb all the way to Skyhold through the mountains on its own.

Finding the fennec wasn’t difficult at all. Herah entered the tavern to see the fox on one of the tables head down, obviously having found a morning snack. The Inquisitor stopped in her approach when she saw the sole human occupant of the table.

The Champion sat there, a perplexed look on her face as she watched the fennec eat. Then the human woman half shrugged and began to pet the fox, who ignored her in lieu of his meal.

“Hello little fella,” Herah heard Marian coo softly, “where did you come from, eh?”

A small, uncertain smile grew on Herah’s lips. _Figures, well no time like the present_.

The qunari approached the table, formulating an apology in her mind. Marian must have heard her near. She turned to face the Inquisitor and stood with a soft, half embarrassed smile in place.

Herah felt a flush rise on her cheeks. _Damn that human_.

“Marian I-”

“Her- Oh.”

The two women flushed even more and looked away from the other after talking across each other. An awkward silence followed.

“Please, you go first.” Marian offered, rubbing the back of her head idly. Herah took a deep breath before restarting, feeling her cheeks flush a little more than necessary.

“Marian, I- I wanted to apologise, I overreacted this morning. I shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that. I’m- I’m sorry.”

“Oh, well ah, don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have gone that far with my jokes. I’ll try to rein them in in future.”

“No!” Herah’s wide eyes were matched only by the Champion’s from her outburst. “I mean, don’t do that for my sake. I actually happen to like your jokes … I mean-” Herah cut herself off, what on Thedas was she saying?

“Oh?” Marian’s teasing smirk was back in place. “Is that so? Be careful what you wish for Inquisitor.” She added with a wink.

Herah’s face was surely brighter than the Breach now, she could feel it, but she couldn’t help herself but smile at that.

The pair were interrupted by some plaintive squeaking coming from the table. The two women turned to find the fennec sitting there, gazing up at them with its beady eyes.

“Is this a friend of yours?” Marian asked with a smile as she scratched the fox behind one elegant ear, he purred happily in reply.

“I just found him, he was wandering around the armoury, then he came in here.”

“Heh, he must have an owner somewhere,” the Champion chuckled as the fennec licked at her fingers, “hard to imagine he got here by himself.”

“That’s what I thought,” Herah bent to pick up the little furry beast who immediately turned to lick at the Inquisitor’s face, “I should see if anyone’s missing him.” She added, chuckling slightly at the ticklish tongue.

“Care for a hand Inquisitor? Could be a dangerous mission you know.” Marian teased with a twinkle in her eye.

“I’d love one.” Herah smiled a little nervous yet warmly. “Alright, stop it you.” She admonished the fennec lightly. He took no notice and carried on licking. Marian laughed well naturedly and the pair left the tavern side by side.

Up high in the rafters, a spirit boy smiled slightly. _Now if only I could figure out a way to get Sera and Dagna to meet_ , he thought.


	9. A Night for Dancing

**A Night for Dancing**

A thousand shining lights dotted a still, night sky overhead. Beneath the shimmering expanse, Inquisitor Herah Adaar strode towards a magnificent palace that shone like a beacon against the night. The ornate structure of the Winter Palace was a striking construct of Orlesian style, drowning out the dark countryside for miles around. Gold and marble and a myriad of other fine materials seemed to glisten from every surface.

In spite of its crass decadence, Herah couldn’t deny that it was an impressive sight to behold.

Although she was dressed in fine military regalia herself, the Inquisitor felt almost shabby in comparison. The members of the Inquisition were far more functionally dressed than any of the Orlesian nobles they passed on the path leading up to the palace. Herah, Josephine and their guard of honour seemed to stand out vividly against the assembled nobility of Orlais and the elaborate beacon of wealth and status before them. Still, at least she wasn’t wearing a dress. Not that Herah inherently minded, she had no love for these sorts of affairs. It was only out of necessity that she was here at all. With the sheer amount of lives that were potentially at stake, how could she do any less? So here she was, suffering under the gaze of a hundred onlookers who had come to gawk at the qunari Inquisitor.

Attempting to ignore the stares, the qunari furrowed her brow as she adjusted her formal attire. She readily accepted that she didn’t have an eye for such things, but the bright red uniform and blue sash around her torso seemed to clash in her view. Herah scowled as she tried to make her sash sit right. It just didn’t feel right to her. She idly thought how telling it was that she found being covered in silk and ribbons less comfortable than being covered in sweat and blood.

Josephine, the Inquisition’s Ambassador, glanced over from the qunari’s side, “I do wish you’d stop fussing. It’s perfectly fine as it is and you can’t walk into the grand hall playing about with your attire so.” She hissed in a frantic whisper, hidden by an easy smile as she waved cordially to the gathered nobility.

“It doesn’t feel right, none of it does.” Herah moaned with a sigh, desperately wishing she was back in her armour. “You know I’m no good with this Josephine, all of … this.” She motioned broadly to everything in the vicinity and beyond.

The Antivan sighed, “Inquisitor, you must be more patient, we have not even entered the palace yet. You must show a bit more decorum if we are to stop the assassination of the Empress.” She admonished calmly with something of a steely undercurrent to her voice. The Ambassador was in full diplomacy mode now.

Herah sighed deeply and tried her best to ignore the ever present feeling of vulnerability. She really wished that they did not have to go through with this farce. Fancy balls and parties were alien to her, as was the so called ‘Game’ of politics, backstabbing and fake smiles that the nobility liked to play. She’d take the bloodiest, muddiest battlefield in all of Thedas over this, and a few dragons. Still, she knew what was at stake here. So, for the good of Thedas, she’d attempt to put aside her ever present feelings of discomfort and weakness.

When they finally reached the decorative front gates to the palace proper, Herah knew there was no turning back. She gulped audibly as the ornate entrance swung open.

Josephine silently prayed to the Maker.

xxx

Marian quietly sashayed through the heavy throngs of Orlesians. Maker, there seemed to be so many of them. All of them idiot nobles, all of them claiming to be on first name terms with either the Inquisitor, the Empress, the late Divine even or anyone else deemed suitably important.

_And all of them masked_ , the Champion thought with an idle smirk.

A long standing fashion in the Empire, absolutely anyone and everyone of note wore an elaborate mask denoting their wealth and their standing in society. The Orlesians had many strange and bizarre fashions, but this one was actually quite useful for Marian’s purposes.

She reached up to idly adjust her own alabaster mask as it slipped a little from her face. Her mask was a simple fare, made to resemble the styles of the surrounding nobility but not copy any one exactly. Orlesians could be finicky and possessive about their precious masks. As with the rest of her attire, Marian had made to blend in to the backdrop of Orlesian high society. She wore a rich burgundy dress, slim enough to highlight her rather fetching figure yet roomy enough to give her the ability to move quickly if the need arose. An old relic from Kirkwall some suitor had gifted to her. She couldn’t even remember his name, the man was rather dull and entirely the wrong sex for Marian, but he had an eye for dresses it seemed.

Unlike the rest of Inquisition party, Marian was here incognito. Well, the prominent members of the Inquisition at least were here as honoured guests, but Marian knew that the royal guards had already been infiltrated by Leliana’s agents. She had already spotted a few faces she recognised milling about, subtly keeping an eye on affairs whilst posing as waiters, royal guards and whatnot. Such was Marian’s role for the moment, to watch and wait. Her task was simply to be on hand just in case the plot to assassinate Celene bore fruit. It was not a role she was particularly used to in these sorts of grand plans, but the Champion was nothing if not eager for the challenge. She’d done well so far, no one had recognised her, or at least if they had, they said nothing. Not even the other members of the Inquisition knew she was here in the heart of the Winter Palace. Well, no one except for Leliana of course.

The redheaded Spymaster had in fact been the one instrumental in getting Marian inside the palace. She had first approached the Champion back at Skyhold and proposed the plan. It seemed so bizarre at first – That Leliana would go to Marian when she had a host of spy’s, assassins and saboteurs at her disposal. Regardless of the redhead’s reasons, Marian had considered it for all of five seconds before jumping at the idea. It was not the first time Marian had infiltrated a high society Orlesian soiree, and she’d found the last time to be such raucous fun. Even if she had been imprisoned and almost eaten alive by a wyvern.

Putting fond memories to rest, Marian rounded yet another marble decked corner. Every room, every corridor and seemingly everything else within the palace was so richly decorated, from the grandest dining rooms, right down to the servant’s door handles. She felt that she was getting lost, though that could just be a result of all the false smiles, ridiculous outfits and the stench of sweat and sweet perfumes that seemed to wash over her.

“Would you care for some ham, Madame?” Marian turned to see a young elven servant offering a plate laden with ham, the slices all intricately layered over each other in a precise, symmetrical circle. The centre of the display was raised with a small wooden rod to make a ham tent, like one would see at a circus or fair. It even had a small piece of shaped ham serving as a flag, wafting in the imaginary wind. Even the food was pretentious here.

“Thanks.” Marian took a slice quickly, making to fit in with the crowd.

The stunned expression on the elven girl’s face told her otherwise.

The Champion froze for a second before belatedly remembering that it wasn’t proper in Orlais to thank the servants. _Or anyone else for that matter._

She raised her slice of ham as one might a finger and opened her mouth to say something suitable to explain her momentary forgetfulness of courtly protocol. Then she thought better of it, and flashed the elven girl a cheeky smile before speeding off into the crowd.

Apart from her distinct lack of Orlesian manners, everything was going so smoothly that she could hardly imagine an assassination taking place. Maybe she should expect one simply because everything was going smoothly. This was Orlais after all. A people who could make ham taste of despair were capable of anything. It was certainly a far cry from life in Kirkwall, where everything seemed to be going wrong even if it wasn’t.

Her keen gaze caught sight of Commander Cullen, sweating nervously as he tried in vain to ward off a gaggle of Orlesian ladies. All of whom seemed to have taken quite the interest in the former templar. Marian chuckled at his predicament, she considered going to his aid for a moment, he had helped her greatly back in Kirkwall after all, but then she decided she was having too much fun watching him squirm. She could rescue him later, if he survived long enough.

She reminded herself to focus on her mission, which at that moment was to observe and be on watch for any potential trouble. If her gut was leading her right, which it usually was, then it was the Inquisitor she should be watching closest tonight. Marian hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of the horned woman so far and idly wondered what the qunari would be wearing to the ball.

Her train of thought veered off into a slideshow of images, Herah Adaar in a series of dresses: glamourous, regal and even scant. Marian smirked at each and every one of the delicious thoughts.

“Enjoying the party, Champion?” Marian’s thoughts were unwillingly dragged back to reality by the accented voice of Leliana, leaning lightly against a table as she looked over to the Champion with a soft, sly smile and a knowing eye.

Marian approached the Spymaster cautiously, “It’s alright I suppose, not enough beheadings for my taste though.”

The redhead chuckled at that. “Hang around dear Champion, the night is young yet.” She smirked with a twinkle in her eyes. Even with an offhand joke, Marian found it hard to read the other woman. Though she supposed the Orlesian would make a poor spymaster otherwise.

“What about you? You seem happy enough here.”

Leliana inhaled deeply before answering, gazing out over the multitude of couples dancing on the floor below. “This is the Winter Palace, the host of the court of the most powerful nation in Thedas, the beating heart of the Game. Here, deals and alliances are brokered that will change the entire world, for better or worse.” She turned to look directly into Marian’s eyes with intense fire. “So yes, I am happy enough here.”

“Right … fair enough then.” Marian wasn’t sure if she’d ever understand the redhead.

Leliana laughed softly once more and all of a sudden the fire was gone, “Ah, forgive me, I forget that you too are not a fan of such things. Though you do have a habit for shaping important events otherwise, don’t you Champion?”

Marian rubbed at the back of her neck awkwardly as she let loose a weary chuckle, “Not that I try to.”

“No? Well, you’ve certainly had an impact on the world regardless. Perhaps there’s more to come from you yet?”

“Maker I hope not,” Marian muttered, “all the troubles I had in Kirkwall were enough for a lifetime.”

The redhead laughed again at that. “I suppose you are right, though you appear to have picked a poor path if that is the case.” At Marian’s quirked brow, Leliana continued, “Have you not joined the Inquisition? Have you not pledged to help save the world from Corypheus, an old adversary of yours?”

The Champion sighed heavily, she wanted to take off her mask and rub at her eyes, but was mindful to keep her disguise up.

“It’s the Inquisitor’s fight now,” She murmured softly, more to herself than the Spymaster, “It _is_ my fault after all, that he walks free. I’m just here to … to try and help make things right. Maker knows I can’t solve this one on my own.” The admission came surprisingly easy to her lips with a smile.

Leliana regarded her carefully for a few moments before replying, “You know, I believe you’re more alike than you think. The Inquisitor and yourself I mean.” At Marian’s confused look the redhead continued with a smile, “You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed it yourself? Maker, you are hopeless Champion. Well, the Inquisitor too is here to ‘make things right’, and seems to be willing to do whatever it takes. Even putting herself aside for the greater good, even doing the impossible, to make it so.”

The Spymaster sauntered over to the railing that overlooked the dance floor, after a moment Marian joined her.

“Take tonight for instance, the Inquisitor is woefully unprepared for this dragon’s den we call a court. Yet here she is anyway, she throws herself headfirst into danger because it is necessary, because she must.” The redhead indicated to the other side of the room with a quirk of her head. “And, rather like yourself, she manages to succeed, excel even, time after time. It is remarkable.”

Marian followed Leliana’s gaze and found the Inquisitor across the hall. Marian scowled involuntary at seeing the Inquisitor clad in the same bright red and blue ensemble that the rest of the Inquisition leadership wore. She had been looking forward to seeing the qunari in a dress. Oh well, maybe the next time there was a ball or banquet.

The grey skinned woman seemed at a cursory glance to be coping just fine amongst the finely dressed vultures that encircled her. Still, Marian could tell that Herah was feeling her nerves, there was something forced about her smile, her posture was a little too straight, straighter than normal. There was a slight involuntary twitch to the qunari’s right hand, as if yearning to be reunited with her sword.

_How am I noticing all of that? Maker, I really need to stop watching her so much._

Despite those minor tells that no one but a lovesick Champion or the most observant of spies could see, the Inquisitor’s head seemed to stand proud on her shoulders. Her gaze was assured and confident as she regarded those around her and was engaged in conversation. No doubt the horned woman was on edge in this foreign battlefield. It was more than likely that thinly veiled barbs and jeers were finding their way to her ears, but in spite of all that, Herah seemed to be impervious. She was pure strength even when surrounded by vultures and harpies. Marian suddenly became incensed. These people all around them were the very ones that Herah and the rest of the Inquisition were working so hard to save. Yet here and now all they could do was look down on the Inquisitor and ridicule all that she had accomplished. Yet in spite of that, Herah still fought to keep them all safe. Marian’s admiration for her rose only further.

The qunari was speaking with a noble woman with short blonde hair on the edge of the dance floor. This stranger was striking and appeared to move with the precise yet delicate grace of a highly trained bard. Barely a few moments later, the qunari and human were making their way onto the dance floor. Some indiscreet gasps and murmurs seemed to echo around the room as all eyes fell on the two women. The band began to play and right on que, the Inquisitor was dancing with the stranger.

“That is the Grand Duchess, Florianne de Chalons.” Leliana provided the answer to the unspoken question, watching the dance idly as though she were barely interested at all, Marian suspected otherwise. “The Empresses’ cousin, a dangerous woman by all accounts.”

“Or a potential source of information.” Marian put forth, narrowing her eyes slightly at the dancers below. “Or both even.”

Leliana laughed softly and drew Marian’s attention again, “My dear Champion, I do believe you’re beginning to learn the Game.”

Marian had to chuckle at that, “Hopefully not too much.”

The Spymaster shook her head with a soft, humoured smile, “What is it they say? You can take the woman out of Ferelden, but you can’t take Ferelden out of the woman.” She chuckled again at her joke, “Always a pleasure, Champion.” She turned and paced away, leaving the Champion alone to gaze down at the strikingly mismatched pair.

While she couldn’t help but feel the annoying sensation of envy as she watched the dance, she also had to admire the way the pair moved together on the floor. While the Grand Duchess had generations of breeding and training for such occasions, the Inquisitor was acting on instinct and a handful of hasty lessons. Yet, there was something purposeful about the way Herah moved, it was just the same when the qunari was in a battle. Leliana was right, Herah had a knack for throwing herself into these alien situations, and more often than not, she thrived.

It was certainly something to behold, and Marian took the time to behold it.

Marian found herself wondering what Herah might have done with her life in different circumstances, if the sky hadn’t opened or if she hadn’t been born into a world of humans. The Champion couldn’t really imagine the Inquisitor as anything else, other than a warrior-hero that is. As quiet and stern and standoffish as Herah could be at times, Marian felt that the grey skinned woman genuinely relished her work.

Marian mentally shook herself, crisply plucking a fresh wine glass from a passing servant’s tray to help. She really needed to take her gaze away from the Inquisitor before she went completely insane. There was no chance of the attack happening right then and there, not with all these royal guards and Inquisition members littered about the hall. As the music wound up to its end, the dancers bowed to each other and exited the floor. Herah among them, walking away hand in hand with the Grand Duchess as new dancers took to the floor. She knew it was probably just childish jealously, but Marian couldn’t help but feel a distinct dislike for the blonde noblewoman.

An outbreak of shrill laughter drew her attention. Looking over her shoulder, Marian caught sight of Cullen, desperately trying to edge away from the apparently very determined ladies he had “acquired”. Chuckling to herself, Marian finally decided to take pity. Downing her glass she sauntered over to save the hopeless Commander.

“Commander Cullen,” She began with easy confidence as she strode right through the gaggle, all of the brightly decorated women scowled her way. They each looked gravely affronted that another ‘challenger’ had joined the fray. They shot Marian vicious scowls and glares as the Champion walked right up to the former templar. “I do believe you owe me a dance, Messere.” She offered her hand with a smirk.

Cullen looked up with a grimace at the latest lady to demand his attentions, after a moment, his face changed dramatically as he recognised Marian. He spent a whole five seconds silently gauging his chances with the gaggle of Orlesian noblewomen, or with the Champion. Eventually, his arm jumped forward and grasped Marian’s hand, leaving the Orlesian ladies behind. A collective disappointed groan filled the air.

“Thank you,” the Commander murmured with no small amount of fatigue when they were clear, “Maker’s breath. I thought they’d never leave me alone.” He half glanced back over his shoulder with something of a fearful look.

Marian chuckled as she led him away and to relative safety, “They seemed quite taken with you. You sure you don’t want me to leave you to it?” She quizzed with an amused, raised eyebrow.

The look on Cullen’s face was priceless. “Champion! No, please!” He beseeched in a horrified whisper, eyes darting about for more Orlesian ladies ready to pounce on him.

“Relax,” Marian chuckling once more at his plight as she waved away his fears with a vague hand gesture, “consider this my repayment for what you did for me back in Kirkwall.”

The Commander was silent for a few moments more, “Maker, that all seems a lifetime ago now.” He sounded so solemn all of a sudden, much older.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you did I?” Marian quirked her head to the side in thought. “Maker, it was all such a blur back then.”

“It was only the right thing to do.” Cullen murmured, waving away her concern. “Meredith had gone beyond the pale by that point. Perhaps I should have acted sooner than I did.”

“You did what you had to do when it counted. I can’t imagine it was an easy thing to do, going against your commanding officer like that.” Marian offered.

The Commander chuckled at that. “Easier than taking on the Champion of Kirkwall, I imagine.”

Marian laughed as well, “I would have gone easy on you.” She teased.

“Oh no you wouldn’t, I’ve seen you fight before. I’ve fought alongside you, remember?”

Marian couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, I’m glad we’re allies in this war at least.”

“As am I, though I hope this one has a cleaner resolution.”

The band picked up a new song and a plethora of new dancers swiftly switched places with the old ones. A wicked smirk crossed Marian’s face and she held onto the Commander. They soon reached the dance floor, whereupon Cullen realised her intent and started to pull back.

“Wait, Champion! I thought you were just using that as an excuse! I can’t dance!” He managed to pull his hand free but he did not run.

Marian half sighed, half chuckled at his expense. This was a man who had fought countless demons, abominations and Maker only knows what.

“Commander, if those lady friends of yours see you walking about without a dance partner, you’ll likely never be free of company ever again.” Marian put to him with a humoured smile and an open hand.

She could see the cogs turning in his logical mind. He gulped once. Then he took her hand again with a grimace.

Marian simply chuckled as she led the way.

xxx

Herah had not had much experience of courtly intrigue before this night, and after this night she resolved to have as little to do with it as possible. It shouldn’t be that difficult to avoid, she was a qunari after all, the feared and maligned race of butchers and heretics. For once, she was glad of that label. Such monsters were never consulted on political matters, or invited to fancy balls. Not that it helped her much tonight it seemed, her being the Inquisitor obviously overrode her ‘bestial’ nature in the eyes of the aristocracy, at least enough for them to speak to her in false tones and behind those ostentatious masks.

She’d even been invited to dance, that was more terrifying than taking on a pair of dragons with nothing but a bread knife. She was certain that it had just been a ploy to ridicule her in front of the assembled court. Despite her instincts screaming at her to run, she’d heard her Ambassador’s remonstrations still ringing in her ears and had accepted the Grand Duchess’ invitation with what she hoped was a graceful smile. Somehow she’d managed to manoeuvre through the dancing without loss of limb, which was a victory in and of itself.

So for now at least, she was free of the dance floor. She had managed to find a moment of solitude, simply watching the crowd as the ball wound along at a leisurely pace.

“Inquisitor.” The clipped greeting of Cassandra drew her attention to a welcome, familiar face. Even if that face was scowling in deep annoyance.

Herah moved closer and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “You look just how I feel about all of this.”

The Seeker chuckled, her face softening for a brief moment. “I’m glad at least one other person here retains their sanity.” She gazed out at the ballroom and shook her head a little in disbelief. “How anyone can enjoy this farce while thousands of men and women are fighting beyond these walls is beyond me.”

Herah hummed in agreement, “I’d much rather take Corypheus over fancy balls any day.”

“Be careful what you wish for. You might inadvertently summon him here.” Cassandra warned with a slight smile. “Though I must admit, I share your sentiments.” Her face scrunched up in casual disgust again as she caught sight of something that was apparently particularly offensive to her.

Herah followed suit, squinting slightly in confusion as she struggled to find what had drawn the Seekers attention. The pair peered out onto the dance floor as the dancers glided around in rhythm. She caught sight of bold red and blue, and Herah suddenly realised with surprise that Commander Cullen was one of the figures flitting back and forth. Though she was no expert, the qunari thought that he was surprisingly good at the dance. Sashaying along arm in arm with the former templar was a woman who looked strikingly familiar.

_Wait, is that … Marian?_

Cassandra made a disgusted sound, “Honestly, the Commander is the last person I would have pictured on a dance floor. I thought he had more sense than that.” She shook her head in mild disbelief.

Herah murmured a mild grunt in agreement, though she was paying far more attention to his partner than the Commander himself. Perhaps the Seeker didn’t recognise the Champion. Not surprising really, Marian had never presented herself in such an elegant and sophisticated way as she did now. Even masked and dressed in finery, Herah could identify Marian at little more than a glance. The simple white mask swept down to a point over the tip of her nose, fittingly putting to mind the beak of a hawk. The angular slits for her vision somehow seemed to highlight her clear blue eyes. Her short, jet black hair was styled in a smooth wave, a sharp contrast to the usual mess of spiky bangs. The Champion was clad in a rich burgundy dress that accentuated the femininity of the human’s toned figure.

Femininity was perhaps the last word that Herah would have normally associated with Marian Hawke, but here she was, dancing away with all the grace and elegance of an elven empress from a storybook. How could someone so brash and brutish just drop all of that and suddenly appear so stylish and refined? Wait, that wasn’t quite right. Herah could still see the warrior within the human woman dancing merely several feet away. It was in the toned muscle underneath the soft fabric. The sharp, precise placement of foot and body, almost as if she were on the battlefield. The warrior was certainly still there, striking and proud as she tamed the dance to her will. Seeing the human warrior putting her skills to work on a dance floor was somehow mesmerising. It was a side to the Champion that the Inquisitor had certainly not expected to see. She had been surprised by Marian on a few occasions before now, and each time Herah had been increasingly impressed. This was no exception. She was also suitably impressed by just how good the Champion looked in a dress. Herah wondered curiously what Marian would look like without-

_Maker! What in Thedas am I thinking?_ Herah mentally cursed as she belatedly realised just how much attention she was giving to the Champion’s ‘femininity’.

As the Champion and Commander spun round and round in a lazy circle, Marian’s eyes left her partner for a moment and found the Inquisitor. Her smile deepened into a familiar smirk and she winked with a fiery look, before the dance carried on and she was swept deeper into the crowd.

Herah was frozen in place as her cheeks burned and she continued to watch the dance, dumbfounded. She felt a sudden, bizarre urge to be the one partnering Marian, not Cullen. Her collar felt increasingly tight, more so than it should have been. She craned her neck as she tried to keep Marian in sight among the plethora of dancing nobles. A thought she never dreamed she would think came to her.

_Maker, do I-_

“Inquisitor?” Leliana’s voice startled the qunari and almost made her jump a full ten feet. “Is … something amiss?” She quizzed with a furrowed expression. Cassandra was still at her side as well. The pair of them gazed at the Inquisitor in silent appraisal with narrowed eyes.

“Yes? No- I mean, no, everything is fine.” Herah managed to get out, her voice somewhat hoarse all of a sudden.

Leliana and Cassandra shared a look for a second. Then they returned to business, probably writing off Herah’s sudden lack of composure as nerves. They weren’t entirely wrong.

“Inquisitor, we need to move. There is no telling how much time we have before the main event.” Leliana purred in a low voice to avoid oversharing with any of the nearby guests.

“Yes, of course.” Herah made to follow the Spymaster as she led the qunari from the ballroom.

Herah again found herself glancing back over to the dance floor where Marian still worked her magic. The qunari’s cheeks flared a little again as that thought re-emerged once more.

_Maker, I think I do._

If nothing else happened that night, it had been revealing at the very least. Though Herah would be surprised if that was all the night had in store for her.

xxx

A few hours later and Herah was utterly exhausted, and that was probably an understatement. What a night it had been, not content with all the dancing, alcohol and heady conversation, fate had thrown in an attempted assassination in the qunari’s lap. She’d managed to prevent the Grand Duchess from carrying out her scheme, foiling her and exposing her plans to overthrow the Empress and subject the Empire to Corypheus’ will in front of the entire assembled court.

Empress Celene had naturally been most grateful, not only for saving her life and throne, but also her once shattered relationship: The Empress of Orlais and the Elven Ambassador Briala of all the possibilities. Already the scandal was reverberating around the palace and would reach all corners of Orlais before long. Not that Celene seemed to care. She’d proclaimed Briala as the Marquise of the Dales to the assembled court with pride. How all of that had happened, Herah was not entirely certain. Given how crazy the night had been, her head was spinning. To top it all off, she’d somehow gained a new ally, courtesy of the Empress herself. The apostate Morrigan was a curious figure, Herah was yet to decide whether she could truly trust the mysterious woman, but she was loathe to turn down any offer of help, especially when that help had been instrumental in ending the last Blight.

For the first time since arriving at the Winter-Palace many hours ago, Herah found herself blissfully alone. She stood on a secluded balcony, just off from the main ballroom. The rabble of noble guests was beginning to gradually retire for the evening, with the main entertainment of political skulduggery and foiled assassinations over with, many looked forward to a good night’s rest. The gentle stirrings of music wafted over her from within the hall, dances still being performed by those few hardy souls not yet spent. Herah deeply inhaled the fresh night air, savouring the relative quiet before surrendering herself to the court once more to make her exit. Maybe she could vault over the balcony and make a break for Skyhold through the forests that surrounded the palace. The idea had promise, but was probably not too wise. Maker only knows what lurked amongst the trees below.

A series of gentle footsteps approached Herah from behind, and she turned her head to see Marian approach her. The Champion had removed her mask and her hair was messier than before, much more like her usual self. Smiling idly, the human said nothing at first, opting to simply join the qunari at the balcony and gaze out into the woods beyond.

“It’s been quite the night.” Marian stated casually after a while.

“Yes, it has.” Herah replied in kind.

Human and qunari turned to each other at the same time. They both smiled and chuckled softly before they again fell into another comfortable silence. Herah eased her eyes shut as she relaxed her posture a little.

“You know,” The Champion’s voice drew Herah back to the present, the human idly toying with some ribbon decorating the balcony, “I do believe I owe you a dance.”

Herah turned to the human with a blush rising on her cheeks, she wasn’t expecting this. She didn’t know how to react to this. “Y- You do?” She faltered, almost coughing and tripping over those two words alone.

“Well, not really,” Marian began with a small smile, “but after everything that’s been going on here tonight … I think you deserve one.” Her smile grew shy, a rare sight on the Champion. “So how about it Horns, care to dance?” She offered her hand.

Herah swallowed with a distinct lack of grace. “Oh- I, err- would not want you to feel … obligated or anything.” She chuckled a little awkwardly.

Then it was the human’s turn to chuckle, “I don’t offer my dances to just anyone Horns.” She smirked with a playful glint in her eye. “Besides, after the night you’ve had, you could do to let your horns down, so to speak.” She winked at the qunari, a different, somewhat fragile looking smile in place.

“I really- well … there is so much yet to do, what with Adamant and all-” Herah stuttered out, more than a little taken aback and unsure.

“Come on Herah,” Marian coaxed the qunari gently, “all of that can wait. For now, just let yourself relax, just for once.”

There was definitely something about the human’s smile that Herah couldn’t quite define, but whatever it was, it seemed to keep her from running somehow. Herah stood frozen for a moment. She glanced back towards the ballroom with something of a longing expression. For a fleeting instant, running seemed an adequate option. She felt like a halla, caught under the hunter’s gaze. Though she was no halla, and the look in Marian’s eyes was nothing like a hunter’s.

Summoning her courage, she reached out gingerly and took the Champion’s hand. Marian’s smile gave way to her full bodied smirk, and she gently pulled the horned woman into a loose hold, bringing their bodies close together.

Unable to say a word, Herah nervously swallowed and numbly followed the human as they began to lazily waltz about the balcony. The qunari was idly aware that they were just out of sync with the music and they weren’t dancing in any style that Herah recognised, but it didn’t seem to matter. Before long, Marian’s moves became ever more exaggerated and ridiculous. Herah couldn’t help but laugh, and Marian was laughing with her.

There was the music, the night sky and their laughter, and it was all perfect.


	10. Games with Good Company

**Games with Good Company**

A cool evening air drifted in through the tavern windows, making the fireplace play and dance in the breeze. The hum and patter of conversation drifted out of the ancient structure, long a place for friends and comrades in arms to sit, relax and take a moment for themselves. The candle lit interior of the Heralds Rest was fairly quiet for the evening. The rowdier members of the Inquisition had obviously taken the night off. Normally the tavern was nearly as loud and raucous as a gladiator’s arena by this hour. As it was, it was the perfect atmosphere for a game of cards.

“Alright, who’s in then? Been a while since we had a good game of Wicked Grace.” Varric smirked mischievously to the table while shuffling the deck with an experienced hand. The cards flowed between each other with sharp precision, clicking together in a constant rhythm.

Marian downed the last of her flagon with relish and leant back in her seat next to the dwarf. “You know me, I’m always in Varric.” She met his smirk with glinting eyes.

“Do you even have to ask?” The Iron Bull seemed almost affronted. “Krem! Get over here, sit your arse down!” He beckoned to his lieutenant at the bar. Krem merely shook his head with a weary sigh before doing as he was told.

“Why not, deal me in too.” Blackwall joined in with a grin behind his thick beard.

“Ugh, not again,” Cullen immediately got up from his seat with a shudder, “not after last time.”

Marian laughed and threw him a salacious wink over her smirk.

The Commander’s cheeks bloomed in red as he retreated from the tavern in haste.

“What about you three ladies, care to join us?” Varric looked up to the Inquisitor, Cassandra and Josephine. The three ladies stood in quiet conversation away from the table. Discussing the matter of the rogue Grey Warden’s still to be resolved. A dire matter indeed, the mere thought of an entire army of Warden’s at Corypheus’ beck and call was terrifying. All the more reason for a night of cards and conversation Varric surmised. Maker only knew when they’d get another chance. The success they’d had at the Winter Palace had earned them all the right to a little reprieve at least.

“Well … if _everyone_ is playing, it would be rude not to.” Josephine seemed to be holding back her eagerness under a thin veneer, quickly taking a seat at the table.

“Alright Varric, I’m in.” Herah smiled and moved to a seat of her own opposite Marian. The Champion flashed a cheeky wink at the Inquisitor when their eyes met for a brief moment. The qunari quickly looked away, her cheeks blooming like Cullen’s had. Yet surprisingly, the horned woman seemed to sport a hint of a smile on those dark lips. Marian knew at that moment that she’d find the night most enjoyable.

A great sigh from the Seeker. “Very well, I doubt we’ll get anything else done tonight now.”

“You can’t work all the time Seeker.” Varric chuckled. “Well, maybe _you_ can, but we mere mortals need a little down time now and then.”

Cassandra scowled at the dwarf but said nothing. Then she too took a seat at the table.

“What’s this?” Dorian’s scandalised voice drifted over them all as he entered the tavern, “Were you all thinking of enjoying yourselves without me?”

“No, we were thinking of being miserable as sin together.” Varric quipped. “Want in Sparkler?”

“Well, when you make it sound so appealing, how can I say no?”

“That’s the spirit!” Bull slapped Dorian on his back, “With enthusiasm like that, how can we possibly lose to Corypheus?”

“Ever the inspiration, Chief.” Krem drawled, raising his flagon in mocking salute.

“What are playing for then?” Blackwall intoned. “Coppers? Silvers?”

“Silver, minimum.” Bull palmed the table, laying the matter to rest.

“Why not clothes?” All eyes swivelled to fix Marian Hawke with a stare. She held all of their gazes for a few long moments, smirk not leaving her lips once. “What?” She asked with an innocent smile.

“I’m game.” Dorian broke the silence with a stroke of his moustache.

“Sure.” Bull quickly followed.

“Seriously?” Cassandra regarded the three of them with another scowl. “Are you all so, so … sordid?”

“Why not?” Surprisingly, it was Josephine who spoke. The Seeker turned a disbelieving gaze to the Ambassador who smiled back sheepishly.

Cassandra narrowed her gaze a fraction.

A small bead of sweat slid down the side of the Antivan’s head.

“I don’t think Ruffles has anything to fear, Seeker.” Varric chuckled again as he started dealing the cards out. “She’ll not lose a hair pin before the rest of us are all left bare as the day we were born.”

“A day which was earlier for some than others.” Dorian quipped to a few chuckles.

“Watch it Sparkler, I intend to play fair but I’ve picked up a few tricks in my time. Trust me when I tell you that Rivaini’s know how to play a mean hand, and I’ve learned from one of the meanest.” Varric warned the mage with a pointed finger.

“True enough,” Marian nodded with a vacant look. “Isabela could be a literal demon with cards when she wanted to be.”

“Who’s this Isabela, Champion?” Dorian asked with a casual smirk as he inspected his cards. “Another old enemy? A scorned lover perhaps?”

“Heh, nothing like that.” Marian replied with a smirk as she looked at her own cards – a bad hand, a very bad hand indeed – but still she smiled. “Not saying I never thought of her like that, but no.”

“Maker’s balls Hawke, if Rivaini ever heard you talk like that she’d jump you.” Varric chuckled.

“So who was she then?” Herah probed, face utterly blank.

Marian glanced a little too long at the Inquisitor, the human’s lips turned up a little further in amusement. “An old friend in Kirkwall, though Maker knows where she is now. She stuck by me all those crazy years, through thick and thin mostly. That nearly cost her, her life with the Arishok you know. But, sorry to disappoint, we were never an ‘item’, despite what Varric and his ridiculous stories try to tell you.” She reached over to ruffle the dwarf’s hair affectionately.

“Hey, I never said that you and Rivaini were together!” Varric protested.

“Really? Then she was the only person in all of Kirkwall you _haven’t_ claimed I’ve slept with.” Marian muttered without heat as she folded the round.

“It was just too obvious,” Varric explained to the rest of the table. “The noble Champion and the renegade pirate queen, sounds too much like make believe – The courageous hero, taming the wild heart of a beautiful, criminal seductress. You need a little believability in your stories to make them work you know.” He nodded sagely to the table as he imparted his wisdom.

“Because of course your tales are so believable.” Marian muttered in annoyance, “I seem to remember one version where I was shacked up with the Seneschal.” Marian shrivelled her nose in disgust. “I mean, he had a son that was about my age you know.”

“Well, everyone has their off days.” The dwarf muttered with a shrug of his shoulders, throwing in his cards for the round.

“I think I’d rather have had Sister Petrice.”

“Well, I’ll remember that for the next edition of ‘The Tale of the Champion’ then.” He shook his head with a weary smile. “Everyone’s a critic.” He murmured as an aside to no one in particular.

“Wait, the Seneschal to the Viscount?” Cassandra asked with a raised brow. “I met with the man when we came searching for you Champion. I do not blame your reluctance.”

Marian gestured to the Seeker with a pointed look at the dwarf. “See? The Seeker gets it, and she only met him once!”

“Yeah, yeah, are we gonna see who loses their breeches first or not?”

Marian stuck her tongue out at the dwarf playfully but turned her gaze back to the table where Bull, Dorian and Herah were showing their hands. Bull’s hand was decent, Dorian’s was better, but Herah’s cards were undoubtedly the worst. The Inquisitor scowled at the cards that betrayed her as the cheers and calls around the table grew.

“You know the rules Inquisitor, what are you gonna lose?” Varric chuckled.

Herah shook her head with something of an embarrassed smile and reached down, bring up her boots a few moments later. As proof of her defeat, she leaned back and raised a long leg above the table, showing a still socked foot.

“Damn, Inquisitor,” Marian drawled with a hefty smirk, “You sure know how to get the blood pumping.”

Though clearly somewhat embarrassed, Herah met Marian’s gaze evenly. “At least I’ve got the guts to get the game going, Champion. You threw your cards in pretty early. I didn’t take you for a quitter.”

Marian loved the twinkle of a challenge in Herah’s eyes. She leaned in closer to the qunari. “Oh don’t worry Horns, I’m not quitting till I see _everything_.”

Herah didn’t look away and even seemed to smirk back.

“Horns? Is that your name for all qunari now?” Bull intoned with a chuckle. “How about I call you all Shorty?”

“That name is reserved for dwarves and dwarves alone.” Varric warned with a sage nod as he dealt out the next round. “Unless you want to start a war with both the Merchant’s Guild _and_ the Carta, I suggest you don’t try it.” The whole table erupted into laughter, even the Seeker joined in. Marian found her gaze seeking out Herah’s again as the laughter died down. The qunari’s eyes met the human’s, there was more than a simple look there.

“Alright, next round, next round!” Blackwall slapped the table enthusiastically.

“Mine’s an ale if you’re buying!” Marian called across.

“Me too!” Dorian sang with a smirk.

“I’ll take one as well.” Herah placed her order with a raised hand.

Blackwall’s gaze fell for a moment as he realised what he’d walked into, then shook his head with a hearty laugh and left for the bar.

“All right, let’s get this game started.” Varric smirked with an evil glint to his eye that worried Marian.

It didn’t take long for Marian to find herself and her cards standing against the dwarf, Josephine and Blackwall. Perhaps the worst group she could have been facing off against. Sure enough, when the cards were shown on the table, Marian’s were found wanting.

“Well, well, Champion,” The Ambassador crowed, “perhaps you’re not as skilled at everything as the stories say?”

Marian flashed the Antivan a sweet smile as she leant down to remove her boots. “That’s only because I’m too busy sleeping with all of Kirkwall in most of them. Not really any time to do much else when you’re busy seducing the Arishok.” Bull in particular laughed at that one.

“It comes out at last!” Dorian exulted, arms raised. “Your burning desire for the qunari!”

“Well, maybe one or two.” Marian agreed, levelling her gaze pointedly at the Inquisitor. Herah blushed and looked away. Then her eyes flicked back up to meet Marian’s gaze with something of an embarrassed smile, almost a smirk even. To the Champion’s side, Varric rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. The rest of the table either shared amused glances or sighed heavily.

xxx

The night drew on quickly enough with the warm company and laughter that drifted back and forth across the tavern. The candles slowly wore down to stumps as hot wax trickled to table and floor. Many rounds had run their course, with varying piles of clothing slowly amassing by the players. Herah was pleased that hers was relatively small. She’d only lost her boots, her jacket and over shirt so far. Likewise Bull, Josephine and Dorian were fairly unscathed. Cassandra had withdrawn from the cards altogether after losing only her gloves and boots, yet she still sat and joined in the conversations and jokes. Others were not doing as well. Blackwall was now shirtless, with little else left to lose. Krem was faring a little better, but had near half of his clothes sat upon the table. Varric was one bad hand away from joining them. Surprisingly to the qunari, Marian wasn’t doing too well herself. She’d assumed the human would be good at cards. It just seemed like her field of expertise. The Champion had lost all save her shirt and undergarments. At least, the Inquisitor hoped the human still had undergarments left to lose.

_Maker, that sounded wrong_. The qunari shook her head vigorously as she mentally slapped herself.

“Not getting tired on us, are you Horns?” Marian piped up, still grinning mischievously despite her state of undress. “You’ve gotta at least give us the chance to take you down a peg.” She nodded to Herah’s modest pile.

“No, not at all.” Herah smiled easily, leaning back in her chair with a stretch. Her bare feet stretched out beneath the table and came into contact with someone else’s bare leg. The qunari instantly straightened, but the damage was already done. Marian’s eyes lit up like fire, her smirk growing as she took a long swig from her flagon. A moment later Herah felt smooth skin gently yet incessantly prod and probe her calf. The Inquisitor glared darkly at the Champion but held her tongue. Marian used hers to suggestively wipe a few drops of ale from her smirking lips.

“Damn it!” Varric’s lament drew both women’s attention away. The prodding didn’t cease though. “I knew I should have started playing dirty with you lot.”

“So you admit you were beat fair and square.” Krem laughed as he threw his winning hand back. “Come on Tethras, show us what you got!”

“Yeah, yeah, calm down Soldier Boy.” Varric muttered as he stood form his seat and, with a hint of a smirk on his face, pulled off his shirt with embellished slowness. To the whistles and hoots of all around, Varric bared his chest hair for all to see. “Please, please, control yourselves.” He raised his hands as he called for order. “Especially you Seeker.” Cassandra, the quietest of the group, turned an affronted stare at the dwarf.

“Drop. Dead. Dwarf.” The Nevarran’s eyes were dark and deadly. Varric merely played it off with a smile.

“Seeker, you’d only miss me dearly.”

“Like foot fungus.”

“Not got too much left now Varric.” Marian joked with an exaggerated look up and down the dwarf.

“I could say the same for you Hawke. Maker, we keep getting ourselves into these messes don’t we?”

“You’ve only got yourself to blame Varric.” Josephine chuckled behind her ale. “This game was your idea after all.”

“Hey! It was the Champion over here who turned this into Strip Grace!”

“Which I think we can all agree was a wise decision.” The Champion raised her flagon in tribute.

“Here, here!” Bull reached over to crack his mug against the human’s with vigour. “Now stop overthinking all the mistakes you’ve ever made in life and deal those cards!” He growled enthusiastically.

“Wiser words were never said.” Blackwall laughed.

Krem suddenly seemed to perk up, his head picked up and peered over the table towards something. Intrigued, Herah followed his gaze and found Maryden Halewell, the Inquisition’s resident bard, waltz into the tavern lute in hand. The bard turned a curious gaze over to the table and shook her head with a humoured smile as she took up her usual position near the fire to play.

“Easy there lover boy,” Bull lay a heavy hand on Krem’s shoulder, keeping his voice low as the dulcet tones of Halewell’s singing drifted over the tavern. “Don’t go clambering over the chairs and tables like last time, yeah?”

“Shut it, Chief!” Krem’s cheeks exploded in colour as he scowled. Bull laughed heartily at his lieutenant’s discomfort.

“Well, this sounds like a story if ever I wrote one.” Varric levelled a curious eyebrow at qunari and human both as the cards flew about the table once more.

“It’s just that our little lieutenant here has something of a crush.” Bull teased with a prodding finger at Krem’s head. Krem turned to grab the Bull’s finger and despite the clear size difference between the two, scowled up in fury at the broad qunari.

“Ah, ‘The Soldier Boy and the Bard’.” Varric sighed dramatically. “Tale as old as time.”

“Really?” Krem levelled a disbelieving look at the dwarf. “I’ve never heard of that one.”

“Of course you haven’t, you’re from Tevinter after all, totally different sort of reading you get there from Ferelden and Orlais. Demons and blood magic don’t sell nearly as well down here you know.”

“Depends on the demon.” Marian intoned as she casually inspected her cards.

“Well, sure, desire demons are always a good sell. But have you ever heard of a story about a sloth demon though? No. But what I’m saying is down south here in civilisation, you have more of your romances, epics and the like.”

Dorian snorted, “You call the sort of drivel you write ‘epic’, Master Tethras?”

“I don’t, but my publisher sure does though.” The dwarf smiled innocently at the mage.

“I’ve never heard of ‘The Soldier Boy and the Bard’ either.” Herah leaned forward with a smirk. “And I’ve lived in the Free Marches pretty much all my life.”

“You’re qunari, you like reading about … I dunno, how to take care of your horns or whatever. But I digress.” The dwarf turned back to Krem, “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve seen it all before kid. You like her, just go and talk to her, simple as that. You never know when your next chance will be your last.” He nodded sagely as if to settle the matter.

Krem let out a small, weary chuckle under his breath, cheeks reddening. “It’s never that simple though is it?”

“Varric’s right you know.” Marian intoned. “In our line of work especially, tomorrow could seriously be our last. We don’t know when Corypheus will strike next do we?”

A small moment of contemplation hung over the table. Herah found herself gazing into her flagon as thoughts of the ongoing war flooded back to the fore. By morning, this night would just be a memory and it would be back to do or die once more. Tomorrow it was the Grey Wardens, next it would be another crisis, after that another. It would just keep going, on and on until Corypheus was slain or until he won. She was abruptly pulled from her thoughts by a familiar feeling gliding up and down her calf.

“That’s why you’ve got to go for it now, while you have that chance. It might not work out, but you’ll definitely regret it if you don’t.” Marian encouraged Krem enthusiastically, glancing at Herah with a smile once she’d said her piece.

Spluttering erupted from Varric as ale splashed out of his flagon and over the table. He coughed heavily for a few long moments before Cassandra reached over and heavily thumped him on the back till his heaving subsided.

“Sorry- sorry.” Varric managed out between spluttering. Maybe she was getting tired or tipsy, but Herah could have sworn that Varric was laughing more than anything. “Just couldn’t help myself, that was a little hard to swallow.” Marian narrowed her gaze darkly at the dwarf for a brief moment before returning to her smirk.

“Go for it lad.” Blackwall urged Krem with a clap on the back. “Like she says, you’ll only regret it if you don’t.”

“Mind you, you may regret it anyway, but that’s never stopped anyone making a fool of themselves before.” Dorian teased, “We’re right behind you in your foolishness.”

“Yes, we are!” Josephine called out, clearly louder than she expected as she placed a hand over her mouth and continued in a hushed tone. “Not that we think you’ll make a fool of yourself. Just be yourself, I’m sure she’ll love you!”

Krem looked torn between being rather touched by their support and wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

As the others urged Krem on in various fashions, that mischievous foot found Herah’s legs again. The qunari fought down her growing embarrassment, the longer she had to gaze at Marian’s leering while she toyed with her the more Herah thought she’d go insane. _Fine, if that’s how it’s going to be, two can play at this game_. The Inquisitor set her own smirk in place with a deep inhale and starting probing back under the table with her own foot. Marian raised a humoured brow at the response. Her self-satisfied smirk was almost unbearable now. Champion and Inquisitor continued their little game back and forth as fresh cards were dealt.

“Shall we take bets on who’s first to show all?” Doran quipped, curling his moustache with casual grace. “My money’s on our _fake_ Warden here.”

Blackwall took the jibe with a weary sigh and something of a smile. “Keep dreaming mage.” He shot back.

“Alas, I will have to, until my curiosity is appeased.” The Tevinter quipped as he perused his cards.

“Believe me. _That_ will never happen.” Blackwall snorted with a chuckle.

“Enough ladies.” Bull interjected, “You’re both pretty.”

“I’m prettier.” Dorian snorted indignantly.

“My money’s on the Inquisitor.” Bull barked out abruptly.

“Really?” Herah turned a quizzical gaze at her fellow qunari. She still had a good lead on half the table.

“Yeah, I know you’re pretty good at reading people, Tiny,” Varric echoed Herah’s look of confusion, “but the Inquisitor is pretty damn good at this actually. She can be damn hard to read.”

“That’s because she stays quiet,” Marian prodded her foot into Herah’s knee as she smirked, “lets us all open up while she sizes us up for the kill.”

“You have been awfully quiet all night dear Inquisitor. Come, tell us some saucy secret about your past for us to gawp over and make fun of.” Dorian threw Herah a sparkling smile.

“I’m not sure that I can trust any of you after tonight.” Herah chuckled, hiding her growing blush in her near empty flagon.

“All the better! What’s more fun than divulging closely held secrets to untrustworthy types? That’s the only reason we’re all in the Inquisition after all.” Dorian quipped.

“Yeah, come on Inquisitor. Tell us something from before you were Inquisitor.” Krem joined in, happy to have the spotlight off him for a change.

“I wouldn’t even know what to say.” Herah feebly tried to back pedal out of the conversation. She knew it wasn’t going to be that easy though.

“I know!” Marian leaned forward, eyes and teeth glinting evilly. “Your first kiss!”

Herah’s scowl promised much retribution and pain to the Champion.

“Oh yes!” Josephine perked up, enthused. “Was it romantic? A childhood sweetheart perhaps?”

“No- well, it- it wasn’t exactly …” Herah somehow blurted out, her cheeks on fire as her eyes found anything but Marian’s. She wanted to just drop this line of inquiry and carry on with the game, but the cards had seemingly been forgotten at this point.

“Come on Inquisitor,” Varric coaxed the qunari with a chuckle. “You know they’ll never give up now they’ve got their hooks in.”

“I’ll tell you mine if it helps.” Blackwall offered kindly, leaning back in his chair as he gazed off into nothing with a fond smile. “Let’s see now. A girl I was sweet on from my home village. She had a face full of freckles and all frizzy hair. It was my coming of age at Summerday. We danced all day and then went to the barn.” Chuckles and snickers rose around the table. “Didn’t get that far.” Blackwall protested with a chuckle. “She kissed me once on the lips, giggled, then she ran off.”

“Aww.” Josephine sighed with a wistful look in her eyes.

“Ah Blackwall,” Dorian put a companionable hand on the would-be-Warden’s shoulder. “Even then you were scaring the ladies away, how very little you’ve changed.”

“Shut it mage.” Blackwall shook his head but his lips hosted a humoured smile.

“That was so innocent it was practically out of a fairy-tale.” Marian mused with her head nestled between her hands.

“Why not share yours Hawke?” Varric smirked, “Seeing as you brought it up.”

The Champion met Varric’s smirk and raised it. “Sure, it’s not like the rest of my life is much of a secret now is it dwarf?” Said dwarf merely nodded with a contented smile before draining his flagon. “Well then, it was actually just a few months after I got into Kirkwall. My sister and I had to sell our services to the local smugglers just to get into the city.”

“And it took months before they found anyone wanting Hawke’s _services_.” Varric quipped to laughter all around. He received a smack on the head from the Champion for his trouble.

“Watch it you. Anyway, I was working with a lass called Athenril, elven smuggler – By that I mean she was a smuggler who was an elf not an – Anyway, she had me and my sister working all the most dangerous jobs. I’m pretty certain she just wanted my sister’s magic. I was just brought along as an extra pair of hands at first. I guess the more we did, the more Athenril took notice. Long story short, I _may_ have become one of Athenril’s most trusted agents. One night she called me to one of her hideouts, said she had something big lined up, nothing unusual I thought. When I get there though, it’s just me and her. She stalked right up to me, telling me how well I’d done. I wasn’t even sure what was going on at first. Until next thing I know, she practically had me pinned up against the wall with her tongue down my throat. The rest, well I think you can imagine.” Marian’s cheeks were more than a little red as she finished her story, smirking in satisfaction.

Krem let out a high pitched whistle, “Wow.”

Marian nodded with a cheesy smile in reply.

“It didn’t last of course. We had our fun, but I couldn’t live the smuggler’s life forever, and she could never get out of it. You’ll be glad to hear I’m a responsible citizen now, Seeker.” Marian leaned over the table as she called to Cassandra.

The Nevarran rolled her eyes with a small smile. “That’s what they all say, Champion.”

“I’m actually kind of surprised you hadn’t managed it till Kirkwall. The City of Chains is hardly the city of romance after all.” Varric chuckled. “Well, I guess it depends on the kind of romance you have in mind.”

“I grew up in Lothering remember, it was even less to look at than Kirkwall, if you can believe that.”

Varric looked shocked at that.

Marian nodded remorsefully. “There weren’t many likeminded ladies at hand.” Varric reached over and patted the Champion’s shoulder solemnly. “Anyway, enough about me,” Marian returned her smirk to Herah, “It’s your turn now Inquisitor.”

Herah breathed deeply, “Alright, I guess if we’re all sharing. I spent most of my adult life before this in the Valo-Kas mercenaries. All the friends I’d ever had were other qunari, before now of course.” She added with a warm smile, receiving a host of raised flagons and smiles in reply. “Well, for a long time I never held any kind of … attraction to any of them. They were like my family more than anything. But then somehow, I don’t know really, it started to change with … with Asaara.”

“Asaara?” Josephine asked, nonplussed.

“My mentor.” Herah kept her gaze fixed on the dregs of ale sloshing around her flagon as the table gasped and laughed.

“Your teacher!” Bull exclaimed with a hearty laugh. “Nice one boss.”

“Well don’t stop there, what happened?” Dorian leaned in.

“Well, nothing at first,” – A round of groans – “for a long while I just kept it to myself. Then one night, we just happened to be on watch together, well, I was. She just came to give me some company, I think. She started talking all this nonsense about relationships, saying that I needed to ‘unwind’ and ‘relax’, she was winding me up really. Then, I don’t really know how it happened, but I just kissed her.”

“There you have it ladies and gentlemen,” Varric raised his flagon in tribute to Herah’s deep blush, “The Inquisitor is just as hopeless a mortal as the rest of us.”

“How’d your teacher react?” Krem pushed eagerly.

“She, uh, she pulled away.” Herah grimaced at the memory. “Said she couldn’t, and that was that I guess.”

“Ah, sorry boss.” Bull clapped Herah on the back kindly. She smiled in thanks.

“Things were awkward for a while, mostly my fault I guess.” Herah continued, idly aware of Hawke’s leg gently brushing hers in a steady rhythm. “I’m pretty sure I tried avoiding her for at least a week. But then she forced me to talk, and we just worked it out. She didn’t shun me or make it difficult at least.” Herah finished with a smile.

“A moderately happy ending, could have been a lot worse.” Krem offered sincerely.

“Correction, Soldier Boy,” Varric raised a finger with time honed experience, “A moderately happy _beginning_. Stories never end with an awkward, unrequited kiss.” The dwarf turned his smile to the Inquisitor, “There’s a lot more of your story yet to tell I’d wager.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Marian raised her flagon with a hearty grin.

“Here, here!” Blackwall raised his with enthusiasm and the rest of the table echoed their sentiments. Herah was genuinely touched. She didn’t know what to say.

“Right, enough soppiness.” Varric grinned, reaching for the deck of cards once more, “back to strip Grace!”

“A man after my own heart.” Dorian saluted the dwarf.

“Damn straight, I’m not leaving till I see more of the Inquisitor.” Marian’s eyes sparkled. The rest of the table seemed to take it as just a joke, but Herah had her doubts.

Varric dutifully played out the cards and the following rounds went without further incident, except when Krem and Bull got into another argument over Krem’s shyness around Halewell. Herah had to intervene before Krem broke a chair over the qunari’s head. As the night drew on into the early morning, the conversation slowly died down to a hum. Slowly, some of the players cut their losses and wandered out of the tavern.

“Alright, I guess we’d better think about hitting the hay ourselves.” Varric yawned, no one offered much of an objection. “Good game everyone. We’ll have to it again sometime, make it a tradition.”

“I don’t think so, dwarf.” Cassandra shook her head with a yawn of her own before retiring for the night. The others made to mirror the Seeker.

“And I was just getting into it.” Marian pouted theatrically. “Ah well, I guess we’ll just have to settle this another time Horns, maybe in private.” She winked playfully at Herah.

The qunari laughed, “I’m not sure I can trust you in private, Mari.”

“Probably wise.” Varric intoned dryly as he threw his shirt back on.

“Hey! You’re supposed to back me up here.” Marian scowled at the dwarf.

“Too tired.”

Herah chuckled as she too redressed and made to leave. A calm, starry sky greeted her as she stepped into open air. The moon shone bright and high in the sky, nearly full. Shimmering plumes of red strolled about the battlements as the night watch made their rounds. The Inquisitor stretched her neck side to side, looking forward to falling into her four poster bed soon. All she had to do was climb the few hundred steps to her room. She sighed as she padded over towards the keep. She heard quick footsteps from behind made to catch up with hers.

“Hey, good game tonight.” Marian chirped, still full of energy it seemed. “I’d say I won though.”

“How so?” The qunari levelled a questioning eyebrow at the human, “I barely lost anything.”

Marian winked playfully, “I meant our private game.” She brushed her leg very deliberately along Herah’s. The Inquisitor blushed immediately but managed to chuckle at least.

“You’re ridiculous.” She sighed with a humoured twitch to her lips.

“And yet, you’re smiling.” The Champion winked then walked away, smirk proudly affixed her lips. “Sweet dreams, Inquisitor.”

“Goodnight.” The qunari’s gaze followed the human as she walked across the yard. Herah smiled to herself, breathing deep the night air. It had been good to relax, even if just for a little while. She allowed herself to savour the feeling of contentment.

Tomorrow, and all the troubles it would bring, could wait a little while longer.


	11. Attack on Adamant

**Attack on Adamant**

Fire and lightning lit up the night sky over the desert sands. The calls and jeers of soldiers clashed with the sounds of battle all around them. Inquisitor Adaar strode into the fortress, pale eyes focussed, weapon in hand. The quest to take Adamant fortress had well and truly begun. A piercing shriek drew the qunari’s attention to the left, demons. The Inquisition had barely begun to clash with the Wardens entrenched in the fortress and already demons were pouring out of every doorway. This would be a hard fought battle indeed.

With a thunderous battle cry, Herah charged into the fray, her call answered by the Inquisition at her back. A powerful slash across and one demon was chopped cleanly in two, its hideous remains squealing and sputtering into ash. A forceful jab to the heart of one demon sent it reeling. It was bitter work, before long the Inquisitor was practically drenched in ichor, she’d lost count of how many abominations she’d put down. Eventually the entry courtyard was cleared and only the Inquisitor and her party were left standing. Herah cast her gaze round to check on her companions, Cassandra, Varric, Dorian and the Warden Stroud were with her for this fight. Herah was soon satisfied that they were ok, panting a bit and covered in all kinds of gore from merely the first of many skirmishes, but otherwise uninjured.

“Pull back! They’re through!” Herah looked up to see a retreating Warden scramble away from the battlements above. Commander Cullen and more Inquisition soldiers came through the opening in the front gate.

“Alright Inquisitor, you have your way in, best make use of it. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.”

“I’ll be fine, just keep the men safe!”

“We’ll do what we have to Inquisitor!” Cullen muttered gravely. “Warden Stroud will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. She’s assisting them until you arrive.”

Herah’s gaze darkened at the mention of Hawke, she’d have much rather have had the human woman fight by her side, but she could do more good right now with the soldiers. Having the Champion of Kirkwall fighting literally at their side was a massive boost to the men’s morale.

The group’s attention was caught by another piercing scream. They turned up just in time to see an Inquisition soldier hurtling to the ground from atop the battlements, a demon stood on top. The monster glared at them menacingly for a moment then turned away.

“There’s too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold.” Cullen drew Herah’s attention again. “If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we’ll cover your advance.” The Commander retreated through gate quickly to oversee the assault from the outside.

“Well, let’s get to it then.” Varric piped up, loading Bianca with a determined grin.

The Inquisitor nodded at the dwarf and the group moved onwards. If there was trouble taking the walls then that’s where they were headed. That Hawke was likely to be there, right in the thick of things had nothing to do with the matter, or so Herah told herself.

The qunari had little time to think about that though as she blocked a sword strike from another Warden. Teeth gritted in concentration, Herah pushed her opponent back and rushed forward to stab him in the shoulder. The Warden gave a pained growl and tried to fight her off, flailing his sword wildly, but it was no use. With a grim expression, The Inquisitor drew her sword from the man’s wound and flung her weapon around in a wide arc, neatly cutting the Warden’s throat. Looking down at her quarry, Herah realised he was fairly young, probably a new recruit. This wasn’t right, none of it was. These were good men and women, people who had given their entire lives to fighting evil and protecting the innocent. Yet now they were being cut down for making one terrible mistake.

The demons were much less problematic to fight, from a moral standpoint if not a practical one. The monsters of flames, magic and all kinds of atrocities were built to kill. Herah felt no remorse in cutting down those foes.

The party pushed further and further into the maze of Adamant, seeking a way onto the battlements. Thankfully they had managed to save a few groups of Warden’s who were of mind sound enough to back down peacefully. Stroud in particular seemed grateful for that, not at all eager to fight his former charges.

Finally reaching the walls, the Inquisitor and her allies pushed harder still, forcing the demonic hordes back. Joined by some of the Inquisition soldiers, the party’s momentum grew till they stumbled into quite the fight. All manner of demons fought the Inquisition forces, trying to expel them from the fortress. A group of soldiers that was thinning out were pressed in one corner, unable to get out. A pride demon loomed over them, the giant monster swiping with broad talons, taking out three swordsmen at a time. Herah saw Marian at the head of that group, the human woman doing her best to rally her forces, but they were spent.

“Come on!” The Inquisitor called to her companions with a primal growl and without looking back charged into the fray. Somehow above all the commotion, the Champion must have heard her. She met the eyes of the qunari, and flashed the other warrior a characteristic smirk before calling out to her men.

“Come on! Fight! Fight for the Herald!” Marian cried. That did the trick, suddenly aware that their beloved leader and Herald was there rallied their spirits and their strength. The odds were evening out in their favour.

As if suddenly aware of the soldier’s renewed source of energy and fight, the pride demon swung around to face Herah. The demon snarled a deep unearthly roar at his quarry and brought its hands together, lightning suddenly materialised, shooting between its fingers and palms.

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened and she dove to the side, just as the cascade of lightning tore up the stonework where she was stood not a moment before. Masonry was sent flying everywhere.

Herah made to look up but something caught on her horn. Her head was forced into the floor, banging against the stone with a crunch. Seeing stars, the qunari struggled to regain her sense of the battlefield. It took several long, sickening moments for her vision to clear well enough. Herah couldn’t even tell where her party were amongst the screams of the demons and the dying. As the blurriness finally began to fade she saw that she was left alone. The pride demon must have thought that she was finished. Its lumbering mass had turned back to the Champion and her few remaining soldiers.

Fighting to get up, the Inquisitor managed to grab her sword that thankfully hadn’t left her side. A scream from ahead drew her eyes back up, another two men killed by the monster. Hawke was doing everything she could to bring the beast down, but she too was spent. From the look of grim determination on her face, Herah knew that Marian was just fighting to stay alive at this point. Mouth set in a furious, defiant snarl, the Inquisitor roared as she forced herself to stand. Head pounding unbearably, the qunari raised her blade and staggered forward, lucky not to be noticed by the smaller demons all around.

Marian caught her gaze again, just for a moment. The human woman threw her arm out and away from her, expression strained. The meaning was clear: ‘Get out, leave us’.

Herah would not leave.

Breaking into a jagged run, the qunari hurdled onto a boulder of shattered masonry and launched herself at the demon. With a cry she seized the monster by neck with her free hand and with all her remaining might she shoved the sword into the demon’s nape, piercing its scaled flesh. A shrill scream attacked Herah’s senses, yet she held on all the tighter. Pushing the sword deep up to the hilt, the tip of the blade emerged out of the front of the demon with a fountain of ichor. The pride demon thrashed about, trying to throw the qunari off, but Herah held on. Feeling the beast weaken, she twisted the blade, her sword arm covered in gore. With a final flail and a gurgled roar, the demon fell to its knees then collapsed onto its face, finally dead

The effect on the other demons was instantaneous. They practically fell to pieces without their commander. Though badly beaten and bloodied, the survivors cut them down with ruthless efficiency. Cheers greeted Herah’s ears, the battle was far from over, but they had won a small reprieve. Panting hard to regain her composure, the Inquisitor cast her gaze about for her companions. She was beyond relieved to see that they all still stood, all of them tending to some impromptu healing to either themselves or some other unlucky souls. All around her there the overjoyed faces of her soldiers, chanting “ _Inquisitor! Inquisitor! Inquisitor!_ ”

“Inquisitor.” Herah turned her gaze to see the Champion sauntering over to her. The human woman was paler than usual, sporting a myriad of cuts and was already bruising in places. Thankfully she still had that smirk on her face, which told Herah that she felt better than she looked. Still though, Herah felt the urge to go over to the other woman to make sure that she really was alright, but with all of these soldiers around them she was mindful to appear confident and in control.

“I thought your men could use some help up here.” The Champion called over, vainly wiping some blood from her split lip.

“Good work, stay with my forces and see that they survive this.” The Inquisitor called back, putting some of the steel back into her voice, but she let a small smile slip.

“I’ll keep the demons off them as best I can.” Marian replied with an easy smile. A few cheers greeted her words from the surrounding men. The human held the qunari’s gaze for a long moment, then nodded and turned to her men. Herah turned back to her companions who were assembling themselves again.

“We should get moving.” The qunari muttered to her party who all nodded and made to move out.

“Oh, Inquisitor!” Herah turned back at the Champion’s call. That playful smirk gracing the human’s lips again. “Thanks for the help back there. I guess we’re even now. Keep out of trouble. I’d hate to have to save your life a second time.” Her words were light, but Herah could see real concern in the human’s eyes.

“Don’t worry about me.” Herah called back with a somewhat forced grin, fully aware of all the eyes on her. “Just don’t run into any more massive demons, or I might be the one to save you again.”

“I’ll hold you to that Inquisitor.” The look that the Champion sent the Inquisitor’s way was … different. It sent a shiver down Herah’s spine. Without another word, the human woman jogged off with her soldiers to re-join the fight.

The qunari turned back to her companions, Varric and Dorian shared a look and appeared to be on the verge of laughter, whilst Cassandra made a disgusted noise and Stroud simply looked towards the heart of fortress, completely unaware of the exchange.

Coughing lightly, Herah beckoned them and the group jogged onwards.

That look Marian had given her, if Herah wasn’t much mistaken – which was very much a possibility – it was positively _dirty_. Despite herself and the situation they were in, Herah felt a silly grin rise on her face.

Herah had a feeling that everything was going to work out this time.

xxx

Marian had a feeling that everything was going downhill at the rate of knots.

She was struggling to think of eventualities that could trump her current situation. Perhaps the Breach could explode and destroy all of Thedas. Maybe the Maker would make an appearance and smite them all for not believing in him fervently enough. Maker knows Marian was hardly the most devout Andrastian. Yes, those scenarios might actually be worse than this, but this was cutting it rather close.

However it had happened, Marian and the others were stood in the fade. Physically! As in, just-like-the-magister’s-who-invaded-the-golden-city-and-started-the-blights-thousands-of-years-ago physically in the fade. It wasn’t a comforting thought. Marian had only consciously been in the fade on a couple of occasions before and she hadn’t been keen to repeat the experience. To make matters worse, they were trapped in this bizarre world, by some Nightmare demon no less, who revelled in taking a person’s worst fears and watching them drown in their own sorrow.

A flash of images crossed her mind. Her mother’s head sewn onto the monstrous creation of a madman as her life slipped away. Marian shook her head vigorously for a moment. _Why must I think of you now?_ She thought to herself as the group trudged through the inexplicable environment. Keeping something of a wary eye on her perplexing surroundings, she followed the others.

She’d always known a little about the eccentricities of the fade, her father and sister were mages after all, but she never expected to see anything like this. Everything just defied logic. Massive chunks of earth floated through the sky, furniture sat quite happily on the ceilings of caves with nothing to hold them there. This was definitely weird. She wasn’t even sure if the fact that the late Divine had appeared to them was a blessing or a curse. Marian had never met the woman before so she had no idea whether or not the being in the Divine’s robes was actually her or some kind of spirit. They had little choice however but to trust in the being and hope that she- it led them out of here and onto ground that Marian could trust in.

Honestly, it was at times like this that she just wished she could go back to Kirkwall, even with all of its troubles it was at least moderately straightforward … ish.

“Marian.” The Champion looked up at the Herah’s call. “Come on, we need to keep moving.” The Inquisitor led the group further ahead, the most determined of them all to get out of their predicament. The Champion moved up to keep pace with the rest of the group.

Five other souls had made it through to the fade with Marian, lucky them. The Inquisitor of course, always at the centre of trouble Marian thought with a smirk, Stroud and then the Inquisitor’s companions, Cassandra, Dorian and Varric. None of them particularly happy, at least Marian wasn’t alone in that.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marian spotted something move. Whipping her head around she spied a dozen large spiders, creeping in and out of nooks and crannies in the stone. A shiver went up her spine, it had to be spiders of course, not nugs or halla or anything pleasant.

“This place is just lovely isn’t it?” The Champion commented idly to the group, Varric was the only one to even chuckle, and even that was strained.

“Looking to move in Hawke?” The dwarf quipped, probably just as eager as Marian was to defuse the anxious tension that reigned over them.

“Oh sure, just lay down a few rugs, dust away the cobwebs and it’ll be very homely.” Marian replied dryly, unable to keep her eyes from scanning her surrounds for danger.

“All you have to put up with is an evil Nightmare demon for a neighbour.” Dorian joined in. “I do so hate that, it’s terribly uncouth.”

“True,” Marian found herself smirking a little, “what if we offered him a trade, Skyhold for this magnificent patch of … floaty, sky rock.” Marian noticed the Inquisitor snicker a little with the others.

“If you all are quite done,” the Seeker intoned, visibly irritated, “maybe we should focus on getting out of this dreadful place.”

“Aye, Aye, Seeker.” Marian mimed a salute, which earned her a glare from the Nevarran. Herah turned back to look at the Champion for a moment with brow narrowed slightly in admonishment, but there was something resembling an amused glint in her eye.

_Well at least some people appreciate a bit of humour_.

All thoughts of humour were quickly banished however when a great deep voice spoke.

“Well, Well, Inquisitor,” the voice, low and menacing, seemed to come from everywhere. Marian even heard it inside her own head, “you and your friends have made it far into my domain. But you will never get out.”

“Just ignore it.” Herah turned back to the rest. “It can’t break us if we don’t let it.”

“Ah, Herah,” the Nightmare continued, “so eager and quick to protect. A pity you could not protect your parents. A pity you did nothing to save them. When the one you care about now is in danger, how far will you run?”

Marian chanced a glance at the qunari, the grey skinned woman was faced away from her, but even then she could tell just how much the demon’s words had hit home. She suddenly felt embarrassed and guilty, like she’d stumbled into a private part of Herah’s life that she had no business knowing about.

“ _Demon_ ,” Herah spat with venom, gazing around at the sky, searching for the source of the voice, “We will destroy you.”

“Perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition.” The Nightmare laughed, its amusement grated on Marian. “Once again Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric.” The dwarf in question stiffened. “You found the Red Lyrium. You brought Hawke here.”

Varric swallowed a little nervously before answering back to the void. “Just keep talking, Smiley.”

The voice laughed, long and loud.

Marian put a hand on her friends shoulder an offered him a reassuring smile. Varric half returned it and patted her hand.

The Nightmare addressed each of the group in turn, laying out their deepest fears and regrets for everyone to hear. Marian did her best to block out the noise. When it came to her turn though, she couldn’t help but listen.

“Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city, how could you expect to strike down a God? Your pet qunari is going to die, just like your family and everyone you ever cared about.”

Feeling eyes on her, Marian kept her gaze on the floor. Then she looked up towards the sky and smirked. “Well … that’s going to grow tiresome quickly.”

No one said anything else as they ventured onwards, all of them lost in their own thoughts. Marian kept seeing images, her father, Carver and mother. She would have to think about them now, of all times. Then an idea struck home, what if the Nightmare was drawing these thoughts and memories to the surface. This Nightmare was twisted, but appropriately named she thought with a weak smile. After what felt like an eternity, the group reached a flat section of eerie land encased in stone walls that resembled a beach. Sickly green water trickled down from more floating section of earth above. The water massing in a sea that spread out further than Marian could see.

“What’s that?” Varric asked, pointing ahead. The party turned to look, at the far wall a fenced off area with stones neatly arranged in rows. Marian shared a look with Varric as the group cautiously advanced. When they got closer, Marian realised that the stones were tombstones. Kneeling down to get a closer look, she read the first one as … _Varric_?

She turned to look at the dwarf who was staring at his name set in stone with wide eyes. Turning back she carried on reading the inscription ‘ _became his parents_ ’. Another sick game from the Nightmare she thought with a scowl. The Champion knew Varric well enough to know that he dreaded the thought of coming to resemble his parents.

Looking around at the others, she saw that each had found their own ‘gravestone’ and from the looks on their faces, theirs were just as delightful. With an increasing sense of trepidation Marian looked about the masonry. Each of the core members of the Inquisition had their own. For a moment she felt oddly relieved, perhaps the Nightmare had decided to miss her out. Her heart fell when she eyed the last stone.

‘ _Marian Hawke: Lost a loved one’_

_Low blow Nightmare, low blow_. She turned and faced the others, a deep scowl set into her brow.

“Come on,” her anger seeping into her voice, “we’ve got a nightmare to kill.” The rest muttered in agreement.

The journey onwards from there was mostly quiet, save for the occasional clash with the Nightmares minions. Each of the party had their privacy violated by the monster in the most personal way, it must have felt its end coming. If it didn’t then it was about to get one hell of a surprise Marian thought with a satisfied smirk.

The Inquisitor took up the lead again, setting a quick pace and quickly dispatching anything that dared try to stop her. Marian had never seen the qunari so driven, her grey face set into a deep scowl that only seemed to deepen the further they travelled into the fade. In the fleeting moment when she’d managed to catch the Inquisitor’s eye, Marian saw deep pain. The Nightmare had dredged up something in the other woman that should never have been disturbed. It made the Champion that more determined to end this.

The party ventured even further into the Nightmare’s lair, at least Marian thought that they were going deeper in, it was so difficult to tell in this maze. Still there seemed to be only one path to follow, so they followed it. They entered a cave, even the shadows appeared to be working for the Nightmare, clawing at the edges of her vision with menace. Then she saw a bright green light around the next corner.

“The rift! We’re almost there!”

“Great Hawke, why not just dare the Old Gods to try and stop you?” Varric muttered dryly, earning him a wince and an apologetic smile from the Champion.

Sure enough as they exited the cave, a gigantic monstrosity appeared as if from thin air to bar their path. Like a giant deformed spider, it supported its mass on many scaly, spindly legs. Its body a huge, spiked carapace, a bulk of slimy mandibles extended around its maw.

“So that must be the Nightmare then.” Dorian commented faintly. “Delightful.”

Before anyone could do or say anything else, demons began pouring out of the very shadows around them and rushed the mortals from every angle. Weapons were up in an instant, and the group were thrown into a battle for their lives.

Marian couldn’t remember ever fighting a battle like this before, not that she had any time to think about it. Once one demon was slain, another two were upon her, seemingly leaking into being from the shadows. It was only her extensive experience of war and innate instincts that were keeping her alive at the moment. She had no idea how most of the others were faring. Stroud fought just as hard as her to the Champion’s left, and the whistle of bolts flying around her showed that Varric was doing his level best to keep her alive from behind the warriors.

This was bad, Marian thought as a rage demon put its whole weight against her in attack, the searing heat licked at her face leaving burns. They needed to get to the rift, fast.

Right on cue, a shout from behind, “Everyone, on me!”

The Champion flashed her head around when she had a fraction of a moment to spy the Inquisitor carving a path through the hordes. Marian caught a glimpse of the qunari’s target, a tall demon with many arms, throwing magic at the beleaguered fighters.

Turning back to the fight, she rapped Stroud on the arm with her free hand, the Warden nodded and they both began to back up, following the Inquisitor’s lead. The fight was agonising, despite the untold numbers Marian had cut down there seemed to be little difference in the horde in front of her. If anything there were more demons the longer it went on.

_Come on Horns, get a move on!_

An agonising wail ripped through the throng of battle, the effect on the demons was instantaneous. The mass of tentacles, flames and Maker knows what else backed down and fled the field, retreating back into the shadows from whence they came. Just in time thought Marian, her arms were killing her.

“Now’s our chance, move!” The Seeker’s call rallied their attention. The Champion ran with the others. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Inquisitor groggily getting up from the floor, her sword embedded in the shrivelled husk of the many armed demon.

Damning everything to the Maker, Marian switched her run and galloped to the qunari. Herah nearly collapsed when the human got to her. Marian belatedly seeing all the crimson blood coating the grey skinned woman.

“Come on Horns, no time for sleeping!” The Champion grabbed the other woman’s arm and tried to haul her up. Herah was so dazed she could hardly walk. With Marian’s fatigue, the weight of the Inquisitor’s armour and the fact that she was qunari, the human could barely carry her more than a few feet.

_You had to be a muscled qunari didn’t you? You couldn’t be an elf or an anaemic dwarf._

The shadow of a figure ran over to them, for a sickening moment Marian felt death approach. Then the figure grabbed the qunari’s other arm and helped the Champion haul her up.

“Let’s go Hawke.” The accented voice of Stroud urged her on. Marian was sorely tempted to kiss the Orlesian then and there, even with the Warden’s blood and sweat soaked moustache.

Looking up, the others had already reached the rift and were pouring through, not far now. Varric stood on the precipice, beckoning them forward with an agitated expression. Marian waved him on meekly. Reluctantly the dwarf did as she bade and vanished into the green mist. Herah managed to find her feet properly started to jog with the two humans propping her up.

An earth shattering boom sent all three of them to the ground. Picking herself up from the ground was becoming all too familiar to the Champion. Her face paled as she spotted the colossal Nightmare demon, standing over the rift and glaring down at them with murderous intent. The trio backed off a little, Marian couldn’t see an opening anywhere.

“We need to clear a path!” Stroud yelled.

“Go, I’ll cover you.” Marian felt sick to her stomach as she said it.

Herah’s head whipped back to reveal fearful eyes. The Champion could practically read the objection on the qunari’s lips, though she couldn’t seem to find the words.

“No, you were right, a Grey Warden caused this.” Stroud admitted, resignation laced in his voice. “A Warden must-”

“A Warden must help them rebuild! That’s your job! Corypheus is mine.” Marian finished with a snarl. She had started this, all of it. It was her mistake that had led to all of this, this Nightmare.

“Stroud.” The Inquisitor’s voice was almost too quiet, but the humans heard it clear.

“Inquisitor, it has been an honour.” Stroud proclaimed with heartfelt pride and – flashing Marian a confident smile that she didn’t believe for a second – he charged. “For the Wardens!” His final cry rang out, drawing the Nightmare’s attention fully.

Feeling an immense weight of guilt, the two women ran. The clash of the Nightmare’s attacks on steel ringing in their ears. Marian swore loudly as she ducked under a trailing leg of the demon.

Reaching the edge of the rift, the Champion held a moment to look back. The Nightmare was turning around to chase after human and qunari. No sign of Stroud anywhere. Gritting her teeth, she took Herah’s outstretched hand and the two leapt into the rift’s glowing embrace.

xxx

The night sky was slowly giving way to the dawn. The sounds of furious battle had given way to the cheers and laughter of surviving soldiers, muted as it was. They had lost much in taking Adamant, both the Inquisition and the Wardens. Many of the dead and demon husks were still littered around the fortress, a grim reminder of the price this battle had demanded.

Herah gazed up into the sky from her perch on the wall of the keep. The dense black of night and the bright stars were peeling back gradually, a red sea grew in its place on the horizon. Fitting.

The Inquisitor lowered her head and rubbed at her eyes, feeling a lot older than when she had first entered the fortress hours ago. Despite some healing from Dorian and some other mages, she still hurt like she’d been beaten on an anvil. She couldn’t afford to show pain though, not when the Wardens had looked to her for guidance, not now. She let out a weary sigh. Drafting the Wardens to work with the Inquisition had been a snap decision, one that her people were split over. She couldn’t wait to have that talk with Cassandra, she thought with sarcasm.

In spite of the victory, there still much to be done, but not for Herah, not now anyway. The qunari was far too spent to even think about some of the other decisions that had to be made. Thankfully Cullen was there to oversee matters for the time being.

Herah closed her eyes and breathed deeply, she was greatly relieved to be back in the physical world after her little adventure in the fade. Though that adventure hadn’t come without cost, the loss of Stroud was a blow, both to the Wardens and to the qunari. She hadn’t known him at all really, yet the guilt she felt was crushing. A strong man, a good man, had died because she couldn’t bear to even consider losing Marian. Herah had made many life-and-death decisions since becoming the Inquisitor, but this one was the worst. Others she’d made her decisions out of necessity, but with this one, just pure selfishness. She scrunched up her eyes in shame as tears threatened to boil to the top.

“Horns?” The concerned voice of the Champion startled her. Damnit, she must really be out of it if she hadn’t even sensed the other woman’s approach. “You ok there?” Marian put a hand on the taller woman’s shoulder.

Herah managed to blink away any semblance of tears before turning to face the other woman. Her eyes widened when she did so. Maker, the Champion looked as bad as the Inquisitor felt. She was covered in all kinds of cuts, burns and other wounds, none of which appeared to be bleeding thankfully. A host of bruises blemished pale skin as well, a particularly large welt had settled on one end of the human’s soft, hesitant smile.

“Maker, Mari you look awful-” Herah bit her lip to stop her crass outburst, Marian just laughed it off.

“Like hell, right? It’s alright, I feel better than I look, trust me.” She flexed one strong bicep as if to prove it, her smirk not quite reaching its usual lengths due to the bruising. Herah’s concern must have shown because the Champion changed tack. “I’m fine, truly.” She put a hand on the qunari’s arm, trying to reassure. “It takes more than a few demons to take me down … How are you holding up Horns?”

“I- I’m fine.” The Inquisitor turned away quickly. Only to have her head turned back by a gentle hand.

“Herah,” Marian began softly, “something’s bothering you. I can see it in your eyes.” The qunari fought down a sudden flush, then sighed in resignation.

“It’s … It’s Stroud.”

Marian flinched away, almost involuntarily but she did all the same.

“It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have-”

“No.” The Champion’s voice was firm, her gaze returning to the qunari’s with resolve, “You will not blame yourself for that. He knew what the risks were, we all did.” She reached up to cup the taller woman’s cheek, eye’s burning into Herah through unshed tears. “You. Are. Not. To. Blame.” She emphasised each word with a pointed finger.

The qunari pulled away, clutching her arms and walking further along the parapet, unable to look the other woman in the eye through her shame.

“You don’t understand.” She muttered with a ragged breath.

“Yes I do.” Marian strode right back up to Herah. “You didn’t make that choice, he did. If anyone’s to blame it should be me, it’s my fault Corypheus is loose. He’s my responsibility.” She shook her head ruefully. “I should have pulled Stroud back, taken his place … but I didn’t, I-”

“I couldn’t let that happen!” Herah nearly cried, the shame, fatigue and grief finally breaking her resolve. “I couldn’t let you die. I care about you too much …” The qunari sagged against the side of the battlements, her silver eyes wide and glistening at her own confession.

Marian’s expression was almost unreadable. There was surprise there of course, but whether she was troubled, embarrassed, or repulsed, Herah couldn’t say.

The qunari grimaced. The floodgates were open now, her feelings escaping before she could stop them. “I can’t lose you … not you, not like everyone else. I just- I- I can’t.” She finished quietly, barely a murmur, just so damn tired of it all.

Marian was silent for a moment then walked right up to Herah. The qunari hesitantly raised her head to meet shimmering blue eyes.

“Well you don’t need to worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily Horns.” Instead of a smirk, for once the Champion wore the most heart-warming smile on her face. Marian’s face, that face, was so stunning and beautiful, even with all the filth of battle that still clung to her. There was just something about her that was so enticing.

Herah couldn’t help it. She closed her eyes and moved in, laying her chapped lips over the human’s.

Marian’s eyes widened at the unexpected contact, then slowly eased shut, lips responding to the qunari’s touch.

The way their lips met, it was so chaste and simple even, but Herah hadn’t felt so loved in a long, long time. She idly thought about how different this was to the ways she’d imagined this moment before, and she’d imagined this moment a lot. She almost wanted to laugh or cry. What a stupid thing to think about right now.

Then in an instant, her mind woke from its beautiful reverie. Herah lurched back, instantly mourning the loss of contact as she did so. She felt her cheeks explode into flames, yet she was frozen. Her mouth worked sluggishly, trying to find some form of explanation or apology that the mind would just not supply.

For her part, Marian stood there seemingly more than a little flushed. Her eyes seemed to dart between the qunari’s eyes and lips distractedly. Her expression was utterly unreadable.

Finally the Inquisitor found her voice. “Uh … I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t- I don’t know what-” Herah began feebly before Marian silenced the qunari by moving in for another kiss, cupping her face gently. Herah responded after a staunched second, feeling the human’s arms holding her protectively. After they parted again, the Inquisitor felt slightly dazed.

“No need to apologise.” Was all Marian said with a lazy smirk.

“You’re not … mad?” Herah probed quietly, almost clenching her teeth in trepidation.

Marian chuckled, a beautiful sound. “Why in all of Thedas would I be mad Horns? You’re not a bad kisser, not as good as me but give it time, and practice.” She winked playfully, light and fire had returned to Marian’s eyes in full.

Herah couldn’t find any words, she was still processing this. She half chuckled, half sighed in relief and fatigue, feeling all the weight of the world slide from her shoulders. She leaned her head forward to rest on the human’s shoulder, just wanting to fall asleep there and then and never wake up. Let this be her last memory.

“Damn, I knew I was good, but I didn’t think I could make _you_ go weak at the knees Lady Herald.” Marian teased softly – sounding just like herself again – earning her a prod in the side.

“Just … stay.” Herah murmured softly. In spite of all her exhaustion, she just felt so comfortable in Marian’s arms.

She received an awkward cough in reply.

“Actually, that’s kind of what I had come over to talk to you about in the first place.” The Champion admitted delicately.

Herah raised her head gingerly to look at the human with questioning eyes. From the look of her companion, she wasn’t going to like what came next. The qunari’s heart was already sinking.

“Listen,” Marian began with a deep breath and a worried look, “I need to go to Weisshaupt.”

“Weisshaupt? The Warden base in the Anderfels?”

“That’s the one. Someone needs to go there, tell them everything that’s happened here.” Evidently seeing the argument on Herah’s lips, Marian held up a hand. “I know- I know that we could send anyone there, but I have my own reasons for going. My sister is a Warden, and a mage. She should be up at Weisshaupt right now. Given everything that’s happened here – what with the mages and all – I just- I need to be certain that she’s safe.”

Herah was quiet for a moment as Marian gazed at her tentatively, trying to read the qunari’s reaction.

“I understand.” The grey skinned woman answered, trying not to let her sadness show, her head falling slightly again. Then she raised her eyes to pierce into Marian’s. “But you better come back to me.” Her platinum eyes were almost pleading, searching for a promise in those seas of clear blue.

Marian smiled a little sadly, “I don’t know when, but I’ll come back, I promise.” Her smile turned into that smirk that Herah hated and loved so much, “Just you try and stop me.”

Herah felt a small smile tug at her lips and chuckled wearily. She closed her eyes and leaning her head into the nook between Marian’s shoulder and neck. The Champion smelled strongly of sweat and blood, but Herah didn’t care. The human held her there for a time, completely silent save for the early morning breeze that swept through the desert and the muffled celebrations of the soldiers inside the fortress.

After a while, Herah sighed and pulled her head back up, grey eyes met blue again, though the human’s smirk was back in place, Marian’s eyes were nothing but loving and caring. A beam of light eased down the Champion, lighting up her beautiful face, bruises and all. The two women tuned to face the dawn rise over the mountains of sand in the distance. Herah felt a hand reach up into her hair to swirl about soothingly, a light flush rose on her face with the sunlight. Though they would be leaving each other’s sides all too soon, somehow it didn’t feel like an end.

They would see each other again, someday.


	12. Someday

**Someday**

Muddied snow was trampled under hooves as an early morning sun lit the treacherous path ahead. The cold wind brushed against the mountainside idly and the calls of crows could be heard in the pass. Two cloaked figures were making the long, arduous journey on horseback. It was a road that once carried thousands of pilgrims, now it was silent, save for these lone souls. One of the figures looked up from her horse, easing the hood of her cloak back to gaze up into the slowly brightening sky.

“I hope you know where we’re going.” She called ahead to the figure in front. “This doesn’t look much like a road to me.”

“When have I ever led you astray?” The figure in front shot back with a twinkle in her eyes.

“When have you not?” The first figure muttered, much to the other’s amusement.

“We’re almost there. Trust me it’s a lot warmer there as well.” The second added as a strong breeze rushed through them.

“Good, just because I’m used to the cold now doesn’t mean that I like it.”

The figure in front slowed her horse a little to join her companion. “Aww, does the fearless Grey Warden need an extra blanket?” She teased with a full bodied smirk. The other shot back with a smirk of her own.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” She smiled sweetly, then without further ado she made to grab the cloak from the other woman’s back. The pair tussled for a moment, but with the element of surprise, the Grey Warden won the cloak from her sister, the now uncloaked Marian Hawke, fabled Champion of Kirkwall.

“Hey! Bethany! Give that back, it’s freezing!” Marian’s teeth had already begun to chatter without the protective garment. Bethany, however, just smiled all too innocently and threw her new cloak over herself.

“You did offer it to me,” the younger Hawke feigned ignorance, “and you did say that we’re nearly there so you shouldn’t go cold for long.”

Marian narrowed her eyes at her sweetly smiling sister. She couldn’t believe that she’d trekked all the way to Weisshaupt for this brat. Damn filial affection. Still, she didn’t complain too much, she was glad to be on teasing terms with Bethany again. After all the years of near silence and a handful of painful exchanges after her becoming a Grey Warden, Marian could happily go cold for an hour or two just to laugh with her sister again.

That didn’t mean she would just give up however.

“Fine,” Marian sighed heavily, all too dramatically, “but if I come down with pneumonia, I’ll only have you to blame, _dear sister_.”

Bethany sighed and rolled her eyes, but she undid the clasp on her second cloak and threw it back to her theatrical older sister, “Here, Mother would hate me if I let you die from a cold.” The mage muttered dryly but with a bit of humour in her eyes.

“Thank you Bethany.” Marian answered sunnily as she replaced her cloak. _Ah, much better_.

“So, do you think she’ll still be there?” Bethany asked with a sly smile.

“Who?” Marian feigned interest in an oddly shaped boulder.

“Your qunari lover of course.”

“Oh, _her_.”

Bethany rolled her eyes again at Marian’s display. Seriously, the older Hawke could never fool her sister, she could at least put some serious effort into it though.

“You’ve only been telling me about her non-stop for weeks now.” Bethany commented with a soft shake of her head, “I’m not sure if it’s sweet or nauseating actually.”

Marian narrowed her eyes at her sister. “I have not been talking about her for weeks!”

Bethany raised her eyebrows.

“Well, not all the time.”

Bethany’s eyes began to roll.

“Ok, fine, I’ll stop if it bothers you that much.” Marian crossed her arms with a huff. Bethany giggled.

“I don’t actually mind … to a degree.” Bethany added with a soft smile. “It’s good to see you so happy. I’ll be honest though, I never expected you to go after a qunari.”

“Yeah, yeah, I had that same talk with Varric.” Marian rubbed the back of her head, cheeks a little red that had little to do with the cold. “But she’s not just any qunari, she’s- Ah, you’ll see for yourself soon enough.” Marian’s cheeks stayed red and she fidgeted in her saddle a little.

“Wait. Are you … nervous, sister?” Bethany asked incredulous, this was all too rare a sight.

“Well- I last saw her months ago, so much has changed since then.” Marian admitted falteringly. “I don’t know if- Well we’ll just see won’t we.”

Bethany put a reassuring hand on her adorable sister’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be fine.” A dark glint reached Bethany’s eyes. “And if it isn’t, I’ll be having _words_ with the Inquisitor.”

Marian was suddenly a different kind of nervous. “Erm, I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

In a flash, Bethany’s smile was all of a sudden wide and sunny again.

“Good, because I think we’re here.” She gazed off past Marian.

The Champion turned around to see the great fortress Skyhold standing proudly amidst the snow-capped mountains. The banners bearing the Inquisition’s sigil flying high and proud on every tower and above the gate. Even from here, Marian could make out the figures of guards patrolling the walls. That was a strange sort of relief. The Champion was half worried that she’d forgotten the way through the mountains.

She’d never tell Bethany that of course.

xxx

Inquisitor Herah Adaar scowled in frustration as she fidgeted with her overcomplicated clothing, Maker she hated wearing formal attire. A few months had passed since the Inquisition had defeated Corypheus and closed the Breach for good, yet she was just as busy. In typical fashion, anyone of discernible note or otherwise had decided to flock to the Inquisition after the battle was won. Likely to bask in the glory and make claim to having a hand in it all, Herah thought with an irritable sigh.

If it were up to her, Herah would have sent everyone making false claims with the Inquisition on their way, ideally with some shouting and a raised sword or two. Josephine however had been mortified at the suggestion and had forbid the Inquisitor from any ‘unnecessary’ threats of violence. As irritating as it was, the Ambassador was probably right, why burn bridges after all.

So here Herah stood getting ready for the latest official function, clad in a freshly tailored military dress, an attractive deep green embellished with purple and silver. Not as traditional as the red and blue the other ranking members of the Inquisition wore, but saving the world from annihilation had won the qunari a little leeway with such things. Not without a lot of exasperated sighs from her ambassador of course. Herah’s medium white hair tied back into an elegant braided ponytail, though a few strands had still wiggled their way loose, which irritated her somewhat.

Small mewling drew her gaze to the floor, where Remus the fennec was gazing up at her curiously. She smiled at the fox and knelt down to scratch him behind his big ears, earning her a contented purr. She’d tried to find out where the fox had come from all those months ago with no success. He was awfully cute though and seemed to have taken a liking to her, so she’d kept Remus with her, much to the chagrin of her advisors. Herah couldn’t remember exactly how it started, but she’d developed a habit of bringing Remus with her into meetings in the war chamber. Cullen was very displeased when the fennec had gotten onto the war table and nicked the marker for Skyhold. Leliana and Josephine were amused mostly.

With the ghost of a smile on her lips, Herah brought her thoughts back to the day at hand. She did her best to brace herself for yet another day of constant smiling and hand shaking. She seriously wondered for a second if it would be better to have to fight Corypheus all over again. At least she didn’t have to pretend to like the now dead magister. Chuckling to herself at the image of inviting Corypheus to dance at the Winter Palace, Herah began the long journey down the stairs from her personal tower.

Remus opted to leave her to it, padding over to the settee and curling up into a fuzzy ball with a yawn.

Josephine was waiting dutifully at the bottom of the stairs and proceeded to immediately fuss over every detail of the Inquisitor’s attire while bombarding her with orders of what not to do or say to the assembled lords and ladies. Herah tried to listen – because she respected Josephine and the work she did tirelessly – but she found her mind wander back to the adventures she’d had on her journey up to this point. She longed for the chance to get back out there and do some real good again instead of this political manoeuvring she was scarily starting to become accustomed to.

“… and when you speak to Lord Jean-Baptiste, try not to draw attention to his leg. He wounded it in a hunting accident years ago and has been rather sensitive on the subject ever since …” Josephine carried on in her instructions, almost as if in a trance. Herah hummed dutifully, having learned long ago to just let her ambassador do her thing and follow her word when it came to politics.

After another few minutes of minute instructions of how to handle the nobles, Josephine was seemingly satisfied to let the Inquisitor free. She rapped on the door swiftly and within a moment the elegantly carved wood moved aside as a guardsman revealed the central hall of Skyhold. Herah stifled a groan as the numbers of nobles exceeded her worst expectations.

“The Lady Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, Herah Adaar.” The crier called out and the many eyes in the room all suddenly found the qunari. Herah received a small prod in the back from Josephine and slowly edged forward, smiling just as the Ambassador had taught her to.

It was like walking into a sea of fancily dressed piranhas, except these piranhas didn’t try to bite. They just smiled ever so sweetly and repeated generic courtesies and pledges, which was altogether much worse. Herah internally sighed and, sorely missing her sword, armour and a group of heavily armed friends, walked into the fray and set to work talking and charming her way through the throng.

It was tiring work, thankfully Josephine was mostly close at hand to steer conversations straight whenever Herah needed a helping hand. Still, the qunari had gotten somewhat better at dealing with high society since thwarting the assassination plot against Empress Celene. The lack of an assassination plot certainly made things a lot easier, if less interesting. As the clock wound by, The Inquisitor was introduced to seemingly every minor noble in Thedas who hadn’t been able to appear at any of the other dozen or so gatherings they’d held up to this point. Herah idly wondered if the Inquisition was charging for entry to these events or not, if so they could have funded the Inquisition’s army from fancy balls alone.

“Fancy meeting you here, Lady Inquisitor.”

Herah was snapped from her musings by a strange, deep voice. Her eyes were drawn to a pair of hooded figures loitering by the table at the side of the room, one of them facing her way, head bowed. The qunari was suddenly on edge, filled with the urge to fight. Before she could talk a step forward, the stranger picked their head up slightly, revealing an all too familiar smirk.

Suddenly the day was taking a turn for the better.

Doing her best to keep her own smirk under control – and mostly failing – Herah took a few, slow deliberate steps towards the figure. “This is my party,” The qunari careful to keep the game alive, “I am wondering what a rogue like yourself is doing here though, in my castle.”

“Isn’t it obvious,” the smirk grew wider, if that were at all possible, “I’m here to kidnap your good self, Inquisitor.”

The robed figure next to the smirk groaned audibly and lowered their hood, revealing a young woman with long black hair. “Honestly, can you not do this while I’m standing right here?” The woman moaned.

The smirking figure lost its smirk and deflated somewhat. “Do you have to spoil my fun, Beth?”

Herah chuckled to herself and stepped forward, pulling the not-so-stranger’s hood down to reveal Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. Several nobles nearby who had been surreptitiously eavesdropping on the proceedings gasped severely before remembering to try and be discrete in their snooping.

“Hello.” Herah said simply with the fullest smile she’d worn for an age.

“I told you I’d come back.” Marian spoke softly with something of a cocky smile. However there was something serious in those clear cut blue eyes, an apology for the wait.

The qunari moved closer. “I never doubted it.” Herah whispered warmly and leaned in to kiss the Champion, Marian reciprocated. Resulting in more scandalised gasps and murmurs from their assorted audience.

Josephine sighed heavily nearby, torn between feeling joy for the mix-matched couple and exasperation at the Inquisitor for her complete lack of proper courtly romantic decorum.

“Ah hum,” The robed figure who was with Marian coughed gently, bringing the pair apart, each a little red in the face, “Would you care to introduce me?”

Herah belatedly remembered that they were surrounded by strangers, strangers with a penchant for gossiping. An unwanted feeling of embarrassment gripped her.

Marian seemingly had no such qualms and chuckling softly she put an arm around the stranger’s shoulder. “Herah, this _person_ who so rudely interrupted us,” the woman rolled her eyes, “Is my little sister Bethany, master of all things magic, Grey Warden extraordinaire and eternal little brat.”

That earned the Champion a punch to the shoulder and a glare.

“Bethany, this is Herah, Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste … _lover_.” She said the last with an all too suggestive wiggle of eyebrows.

Herah chuckled despite the stupidity of it, the flush on her cheeks growing even more.

“A pleasure.” Bethany offered her hand, which Herah took and was immediately taken back by how vice like the woman’s grip was. Though she wore a cloak it was plain to see that she wasn’t a muscle bound warrior. “I do hope that you make my sister very happy and will take good care of her.” The Warden all but glared demons up at the Inquisitor.

Marian’s face lit up in alarm and tried to laugh it off. She attempted to turn Bethany away by the shoulders, but the younger Hawke would not be moved.

Feeling tested – perhaps the most important of all tests she had faced – Herah matched Bethany’s glare evenly and answered earnestly, “If I can make her anything as happy as she makes me, then you have nothing to worry about, and I would give my life to keep her safe if I had to.”

Marian looked torn between being extremely touched and wanting to avoid bloodshed. The mage held the qunari’s gaze for a few moments longer, her glare turned into a smile, her grip relaxed.

“I can see why you like her, sister.” The younger Hawke’s tone was suddenly very sunny and bright, as if nothing significant had passed. “So, Skyhold is larger than I thought it would be. I couldn’t believe it when Mari told me about it all.” The sudden change of topic threw both Marian and Herah for a moment.

“I- I can give you a tour if you like.” Herah offered. Bethany seemed to mull the offer over in her head for a second then shook her head.

“Maybe another time, why don’t you two run off,” she smiled conspiratorially, suddenly all too similar to her older sister, “she’s been dying to see you, you know.” She whispered to Herah just loud enough for Marian to hear.

“I- I- Not _dying_ …” Marian’s cheeks blossomed in red as Bethany chuckled at her discomfort.

Herah’s lazy grin grew, she too had been missing the other, not that she’d let on.

“That sounds like a great idea,” the Inquisitor murmured softly, “maybe we can go to my room, and you can tell me just how badly you missed me?”

Marian laughed in spite of her obvious embarrassment.

“Inquisitor!” Josephine’s hushed call whipped away Herah’s attention. “You can’t leave now. This soiree is in your honour.”

“Josephine, relax, I’m sure you can handle the nobles for a while.” The Inquisitor half reasoned half begged her ambassador. “I won’t be gone long.” The qunari wanted to spend some private time with the Champion, but also wanted to get away from the prying stares.

Marian took that moment to grab Herah’s hand and lead her away, “I’ll be sure to bring her back in one piece.” The Champion winked playfully at the Antivan who sighed in exasperation.

Herah stifled a chuckle for Josephine’s sake as she let Marian lead her through the crowd of nobility who looked on with barely concealed interest and scandalised faces at the human and qunari couple.

xxx

“I think we made an impression Horns.” Marian commented with an air of innocence as she climbed the many steps to the Inquisitor’s tower. It was altogether very different to the last time she’d made the journey.

“ _You_ made the impression,” Herah corrected behind her with a smile, “I’m sure Val Royeaux will be talking about us for weeks now.” She muttered a little distractedly.

The Champion paused in her ascent to face the other woman, “Does that bother you?”

The qunari seemed to chew the idea over before climbing another few steps to stand adjacent to the human, almost at eye level.

“No, I just-.” Herah sighed and gazed out of an adjacent window as she gathered her thoughts. “I’m used to being the centre of gossip. But this is different. What we have, is ours. They have no right to … judge or know even …” Another sigh and grey fingers rubbed at silver eyes, “I don’t know. A part of me just wants to grab your hand and run away from all this- Ah, I’m being stupid.” The qunari shook her horns with a wan smile.

“You’re quite the romantic aren’t you?” Marian’s smile wasn’t teasing, much.

“You’re teasing me.” Herah resumed climbing, trying to block her blush by turning her head in a seemingly absent manner.

“No, I’m not.” The Champion’s half-laugh gave her away.

The Inquisitor levelled a sceptical glare at the human but said nothing.

“Alright, listen,” Marian took hold of Herah’s hands and forced her to stop and look at her, “If you really want to run away, live a quiet life, hidden away from the world like a hermit, I’m ok with that.” Marian hoped her smile was reassuring.

“Really? That life sounds quiet dull for the Champion and the Inquisitor.”

“It does, doesn’t it,” Marian agreed with a chuckle, “but if that’s what you want, I’ll be there with you. We can leave right now if you want. Just let me say bye to Beth first.”

Herah seemed touched by the gesture.

“No that’s not what I want. I just want … well I just want you. Maker that sounded terrible didn’t it?” The horned woman rubbed at her eyes trying vainly to shield her embarrassment, this seemed to be happening a lot to them today. Marian envisioned their reunion to be a lot more passionate and a lot less awkward.

“Maybe a little,” Marian lied easily, in truth it was completely terrible, “but I enjoyed it anyway.” She finished with a wink.

Herah laughed softly and without another word the pair climbed again. The Inquisitor’s private quarters were pretty much identical to the last time Marian had visited. The human idly noted that this was only her second visit, mischievously hoping for more – a lot more – in the future. Mentally slapping herself, she opted to change the subject.

“So, you defeated Corypheus I hear.” Marian stated inconsequentially, as if they were discussing the weather or what to have for dinner.

“All of Thedas has apparently, it was quite the fight. I could have used you there.” Herah turned to the Champion.

“Ah, it was probably for the best, I would have found a way to mess things up for you somehow.” The human joked lightly, though the qunari saw right through her.

“Mari, Corypheus wasn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing what he was capable of, or that he’d survive.” She placed a comforting hand on Marian’s shoulder, “You did everything you could.”

“Yeah, but you did more.” Marian gazed up into silver eyes earnestly, “You really are a hero.” She smiled sincerely, more than a little proud.

The Inquisitor chuckled a little awkwardly and turned to hide her blush. Something about how uncomfortable the qunari looked right then made something ache inside Marian.

“I’m serious.” Marian pressed, grabbing the qunari’s hand firmly. She felt the need to make her point known, to make sure that Herah really understood. “You really are. And I don’t mean because you’re the Inquisitor or the Herald or because you’ve got that mark on your hand. You’re so much more than all of that. You’re so much more to _me_.” She finished by taking Herah’s free hand and kissing it gently.

“Mari …” Herah was at a loss for words.

“I know that you never asked for this, that you didn’t want any of it in the first place.” Marian forged on, knowing she’d never will herself to say these words again if she didn’t now. “But you’ve done it all so brilliantly. No one could have done better, no one, certainly not me. I just- I hate how uncomfortable it makes you feel. I wish I could just take that from you. I really do … I just-” She was cut off as Herah moved in for a kiss.

“Thank you.” Herah said quietly with a smile when they parted, her expression unreadable, perhaps it was sadness or even relief. She turned away from the Champion swiftly.

While Marian couldn’t be completely sure, she felt in her gut that she’d said the right thing for once.

Herah wandered over to her desk, smiling warmly at the sight of the fox curled up asleep on the settee. She retrieved a bottle of wine – an Antivan red – not unlike the one Marian had brought up on her last visit.

“So, your sister is nice.” The qunari commented innocently, sounding just like her normal self. She poured them both a glass.

“Oh Maker, I am so sorry about that, she’s just really overprotective sometimes, well we both are I suppose, we only really have each other, I mean there’s still uncle Gamlen, and I guess we have a cousin as well but-”

“Relax,” Herah cut Marian off before she could babble any further, “I don’t mind. If I have to fight her at some point then I will, she can’t be worse than Corypheus.” She added with a playful smile.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, she’s a powerful mage … and a Grey Warden after all.” Marian only half joked.

The look on Herah’s face told Marian that she hadn’t considered those particular factors.

“Don’t worry. I’ll warn you if she tries to tear the sky open or anything.” The Champion assured the Inquisitor.

“Thanks.” Herah smiled a little hesitantly, handing one drink over to her companion and moving over to the balcony, Marian followed suit. The pair gazed out over Skyhold and the horizon, clear skies dotted by a flock of birds over the mountains.

“So, what was the party downstairs all about?” The disgusted noise Marian received in reply put in mind a certain taciturn Seeker, evidently a sore subject then.

“Just another gathering of every damn noble whose ever even heard of the Inquisition.” Her tone left Marian in no doubt what Herah thought of the nearby aristocracy. The human couldn’t blame her. “I wouldn’t mind so much if I didn’t know that half of them had refused to help us in the past, or just want to tear us down now. Either that or turn the Inquisition into a glorified house guard.” She took a long swig of wine. “But Josephine says we have to build more bridges, keep making alliances and … sorry you don’t want to hear all this.”

“Not really, but for you I’ll make an exception.” Marian winked with a swig of wine, earning her a chuckle if nothing else. “It’s that bad is it?”

Herah nodded mournfully, “There’s talk of some sort of meeting or council coming, with the Chantry and Orlais probably, and whoever else feels important enough. We’ve become too powerful for them all to simply ignore.”

Marian whistled low, she thought she had it rough with the constant fighting between mages and Templars in Kirkwall. Perspective was a funny thing.

“Well, for whatever it’s worth, you have the Champion of Kirkwall in your corner.” Marian put on a deep authoritative voice that wormed a small smile from the qunari.

“Thank you. But enough about that, have you been up to anything more interesting and adventurous than wrangling with high society?”

“Honestly, not much … other than dealing with a possible schism within the Grey Wardens that is.”

Herah froze as she raised her glass to her face. “That sounds like a lot more than ‘not much’.”

“Aye,” Marian sighed, “I’ll tell you the full gory details later,“ she teased, “that’s how I got Bethany to follow me down all this way, she’s actually heading to Ferelden, looking for their Wardens.”

“Oh, she’s not staying then?” Herah looked somewhat crestfallen, Marian read her like a book.

“Not for long … but I might as well stick around, you know, if there’s nothing better to do elsewhere.” Marian idly commented as though discussing the weather.

Herah did a poor job of disguising her pleased smile. It was curious really, when Marian first met her, she could only read grim determination and grim anger in the qunari’s face. Now there was a plethora of emotions and expressions, many of them just for her, Marian thought with a hint of possessiveness.

“I thought you wanted to stay with your sister, make sure she’s safe?”

“Aye, and she is, she can look after herself.” Marian murmured with pride. “I sometimes forget that she’s a Grey Warden, seems strange doesn’t it?” She stared off into the distance with a fond smile. “She’ll be fine without me.” Her fond smile gave way to a wicked one as a brazen thought came to mind, “Though that does leave me in a bit of a predicament, after all where am I going to go? Where am I going to sleep?” She levelled a smirk and a challenge at the qunari.

“I suppose we could provide you with a room, for all of your services to the Inquisition.” Herah murmured in a seemingly idle tone, a vivid blush rising on her cheeks.

She was speaking far too inconsequentially for the Champion’s liking, so Marian abandoned pretence altogether, taking a swig of wine and very deliberately licking the crimson liquid from her lips as she held the qunari’s gaze.

“I have a better idea.” The Champion purred, slowly placing her glass down on the balcony and moving closer into the Inquisitor’s space, placing pale hands over grey hips, “How about I move in here, with you?” The look in her eyes could hardly have left Herah any doubt as to her intentions.

“I …” Herah began and didn’t finish. She hesitated, her eyes quickly flickering back and forth between Marian and the bed that stood mere feet away, her expression suddenly tense.

Marian bit back a wince. She’d clearly misjudged the mood. Maybe she couldn’t read the qunari as well as she thought, “Sorry. We er- don’t have to do anything if you-”

“No, I-” the qunari interjected quickly, her blush blazing furiously now, “It’s not that I don’t want to … It’s just, well …” Her eyes seemed to dart around the room, finding anything and everything but Marian.

Realisation hit the human and she had to bite her lip in an attempt not to smile stupidly at the qunari’s adorably awkward display. “First time?” She asked gently.

The Inquisitor’s gaze finally rested on the Champion, two silver seas that shimmered anxiously. Her head nodded ever so softly.

“It’s alright, that doesn’t matter, not to me.” Marian eased the qunari tenderly with a smile. “Besides, it’s been a while for me, too.” She admitted, a blush of her own rising. “I’m sure we can figure it out together, if you want.” She winked playfully at Herah.

Herah laughed, the tension visibly leaving her. “Alright … Alright.” She nodded with a relaxed smile, seemingly assured.

Marian swallowed a little thickly, “You sure? I don’t want you to feel … _obligated_ or anything.” She had to ask, she couldn’t bear to take advantage of Herah and of what they had.

Herah moved a hand up to gently caress Marian’s cheek, her gaze penetrated deep into Marian’s soul. “Mari, I trust you.” Her words were earnest. Marian felt it in her heart.

“Good.” Marian let out a breath, a smile more than a little wicked grew on her face as she neared ever closer. “Good. Now, what say you to my proposition? I assure you that I can be very well behaved … mostly.” She winked.

The qunari snickered. “Hmm, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?” Herah barely whispered, a silly smile rising.

“Easy, you can’t.” Marian closed the gap between them and kissed the qunari almost reverently, right along that long, elegant scar that Herah had earned from a dragon so long ago. Then, months of separation took over and she pulled Herah by the hips towards the bed.

Herah laughed all of the way, music to Marian’s ears.


	13. The Storm after the Quiet

**The Storm after the Quiet**

Herah sighed heavily and wondered if she had dreamt the last few years. All the wild adventures, meeting most of her weird and wonderful friends and quenching the world threatening dangers all seemed so long ago now. If someone had told her before all of this had started everything that would happen to her up to this point, she would have laughed at them and then probably stabbed them for good measure. No point in letting such crazy people spread their nonsense.

The qunari fought the urge to rub at her eyes in bleary fatigue as the Exalted Council proceeded to make each and every issue they all had with the Inquisition known. It seemed like a never ending list. Herah couldn’t even recall many of the accusations being levelled against her Inquisition, which probably meant that most of them were barefaced lies. Though with all the ridiculous escapades she’d actually undertaken years ago, she wouldn’t blame anyone for believing half of them. So the Inquisitor simply sat in her place alongside Josephine, facing the Council as they let their grievances sound out into the chamber. The so called Exalted Council sat notably above everyone else present on a high platform at the head of the room. Whether that decision was made to intimidate the Inquisitor or simply to project authority, it merely amused Herah. The qunari was taller than them all anyway.

The Council consisted of only three members, Duke Cyril de Montfort, Ambassador for Orlais who wanted to turn the Inquisition into just another army of the empire. Arl Teagan Guerrin was the Ambassador for Ferelden. He made most of the shouting and wanted the Inquisition dissolved entirely. Most notably however was the newly instated Divine Victoria, otherwise known to her friends as Cassandra Pentaghast. While Herah considered herself lucky to have such a friend at this precise moment in time, she wasn’t sure just how much help the new Divine could give.

They had all come together here for one simple question – What to do with the Inquisition? The two years since Corypheus’ defeat had seen Southern Thedas stabilise almost completely, with no small amount of help from the Inquisition, but now there was no great evil to fight, what was their purpose? What was Herah’s? While these questions worried the members of the council, they scared the qunari sat before them just as much, if not more. The Inquisition had somehow become a part of her just as the mark on her hand had.

As if triggered by the thought, the anchor sparked its green hue and a fresh ripple of pain shot through Herah’s hand. She instinctively clenched her fist and winced a little. This had been happening more and more often recently. She idly noted Arl Teagan squint his eyes in suspicion at her, another ‘crime’ she’d committed no doubt.

“Pardon me, Inquisitor,” a hushed whisper drew Herah’s attention, a blonde elf wearing Inquisition armour stood next to her, “Sister Leliana asked to speak with you in private.”

Herah furrowed her brow. Leliana knew just how crucial this meeting was to all of them. This had to be something serious. She turned to Josephine, “Something has come up, I’ll be back.” Without further ado the qunari got up.

“What?” Was Josephine’s frantic whisper, perplexed, but Herah was already leaving the chamber.

“This is highly irregular.” Duke de Montfort murmured.

“Are we not even worth the Inquisitor’s time?” Arl Teagan barked at Herah’s back, she hardly cared though. In fact she was grateful for the reprieve.

Years ago she would have thought twice about making such a daring move in front of such powerful people, but now she’d mostly come to accept her own position and power. She hadn’t even wanted the authority of being Inquisitor, yet now – for better or worse – she could hardly imagine her life without it.

Perhaps that was the most terrifying thought of all.

Flanked by the gossiping whispers of the assembled crowd, Herah made to leave.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a figure at the back of the hall move to meet her, a concerned expression on the human’s face. The Champion had wanted to join the Inquisitor at the talks, but the Exalted Council had forbidden it. So eager were they to portray dominance over the Inquisitor and deny her any assistance. So she’d elected to don her imposing Champion’s armour, stand at the back of the chamber and glare daggers at the council instead.

“What’s going on Horns?” Marian asked the qunari when the horned woman was within reach. Herah didn’t slow down and for a moment the human had to jog to catch up.

“Leliana has something.” The qunari murmured cryptically as the pair strode into the gardens of the Winter Palace.

“Ok … what?”

“I don’t know!” Herah snapped, immediately drawing the gazes of more than a few nobles and servants loitering around. Rubbing at her eyes, Herah turned to the human, “Sorry, I- It’s been a long day.”

“It’s about to get even longer I think.” Marian said without heat and clapped the grey skinned woman on the back with what Herah hoped was supposed to be a reassuring smile, it didn’t achieve much. “Come on, you don’t normally let the politicians bother you so much. You and Josephine can handle them.”

“It’s not just that, it’s- well what if they’re right?” Herah hated the insecurity in her own voice.

“Hey, you don’t really believe that.” Marian adopted her soft, reassuring tone of voice she used whenever Herah had such doubts, the Inquisitor heard it a lot these days it seemed. “It was you who stopped Corypheus not them.”

“And since then? We’ve helped rebuild sure, but for the last few months at least we’ve done nothing but wait for trouble to emerge. Many of our soldiers have already gone home. Is there any real reason for the Inquisition to stay? Besides, we call ourselves keepers of the peace now. What gives us that right? Why should we decide who lives and dies? Since Corypheus-”

The Champion tugged on the Inquisitor’s arm, pulling the agitated woman to a stop and reached one hand up to cup a grey cheek, forcing the qunari to listen.

“The Inquisition- _You,_ keep the peace. Without you there would be chaos right now, even with Corypheus gone.”

Herah sighed heavily. “I’m not so sure.”

“Well I am.” Marian winked playfully. “You’ve done more for this world than I think you realise. You’re a hero, Lady Inquisitor, if those fools can’t see that, then I do.”

It was a strange thing, at one time Herah would have been repelled by that title. Yet here, now, from Marian’s lips, she wasn’t frightened of it anymore. Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps she was becoming too comfortable. Oddly, that thought made her made her all the more agitated now.

_Nothing’s ever simple is it,_ Herah thought ruefully.

Still, the qunari smiled gratefully though it faded quickly, “So what do you think I should do then? Defy the council?”

“You could.” Marian said, completely serious. “The only reason we’re here right now is because they know that they can’t force us- force _you_ into anything, particularly divided as they are. Though, that wouldn’t leave us with many friends.” The human furrowed her brow with a look of concern before she raked a hand through her hair. “Look, I know that I’m not helping much,” – on the contrary, she was helping a great deal thought Herah – “but … whatever you decide to do, I’ve got your back, you’re not alone you know.” She ended her piece with a characteristic smirk and reached up to kiss Herah on the cheek.

“Thank you,” Herah murmured in a small voice, “For everything.”

“That’s not a goodbye is it Horns?” Marian joked with a quirk of her head and a raised eyebrow.

“Never.” Herah swore, voice much more confident. With a nod to steel herself more than anything else, the Inquisitor strode off to meet with Leliana, side by side with the Champion.

Still, Herah couldn’t shake a nagging feeling that everything they’d built was about to come crashing down.

xxx

Marian had been on many a wild adventure before, but this latest escapade might be the most ludicrous yet. A qunari plot discovered in the heart of the Winter Palace to wipe out the leaders of the South, a winding journey through the ancient magical elven portals and to top it all off Solas, the mysterious elven mage formerly of the Inquisition was at the centre of everything … somehow.

To tell the truth, Marian had a hard time following it all. All she knew for certain was that she and the rest of the Inquisitor’s party were chasing down a qunari agent who led the conspiracy, one Viddasala. The qunari was proving elusive however, leading the Inquisitor’s party through a myriad of portals and locales Marian could scarcely believe. Courtesy of the Eluvian’s, the group had seemingly ventured to all corners of Thedas in a mere few hours. The Champion could hardly tell where in the world they were now. They were running through a fortress, she knew that much at least, but the land and sky outside was unfamiliar to her.

Together they slew all the qunari who stood in their way. Marian wondered how Herah or even the Iron Bull felt at having to cut down their kinfolk. If they felt any reservations however, they didn’t show it as they swiftly dispatched all comers. Varric and Dorian made up the rest of their party, jogging across stone bridges under a pale night sky with the others. Together they forged on ahead to get to the bottom of all this madness.

“Do you ever feel like you’re getting too old for this shit?” Varric droned humourlessly alongside Marian, surprisingly able to keep up with the taller humans and qunari.

“Maybe a little.” The Champion agreed with a grimace.

“Shit, if you’re feeling old then the rest of us have no chance, Hawke. Thanks for that.” The storyteller quipped dryly.

“You’re not that old Varric,” Marian soothed, half laughing, “you must be one of the youngest Viscount’s Kirkwall’s ever had.”

“Ah, don’t remind me. Once all this is done, I’ve still got a lot of mess to clean up back home too. Joy of Joy’s.” The newly crowned Viscount levelled a glare at the human, “You should come too Hawke, help with all the rebuilding. You were the one to tear down half of the city after all.”

Marian rapped the dwarf over the head, scowling, “Hey! You know fully well that none of that was my fault. Anyway that- that depends.”

“Ah, let me guess, that depends on whether your tall, horned and handsome girlfriend lets you or not.” Varric smirked knowingly.

“Quiet you,” The Champion snapped in an effort to cover her embarrassment, glancing ahead to make sure said horned girlfriend wasn’t listening, “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions … I just so happen to like making them with Herah in mind.” She finished weakly.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say Hawke.” Varric proceeded to make whipping motions at her. Marian merely scowled in response and opted to ignore the short jester.

The party soon reached a corridor, at the end of which intense shouting and a deep rumble could be heard. Motioning to the others to keep quiet, Herah padded forward softly, not at all eager to give away the element of surprise. As she reached the end of the passage, a thunderous roar shook through the very foundations of the keep. Easing forward even more cautiously, the Inquisitor stepped into the foyer and even from her position at the rear Marian could see pale eyes going wide.

“’Dragon’s Breath’ is … an actual dragon?” Herah murmured in surprise. Marian and the others edged forward to join the qunari. All eyes went wide. Beyond the foyer was a large open chamber, an enormous High Dragon swirling around in furious circles in the centre. The great beast was seemingly kept from leaving the centre of the room.

A sudden shout from a qunari below caused all eyes to fall from the dragon. A team of qunari warriors below their vantage point gazed up to turn the Inquisitor’s way. A door burst open on a platform above the main foyer, the qunari Viddasala appeared, barking orders to her troops. She turned to the Inquisitor’s party and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“ _Hissrad_! Now, please. _Vinek Kathas_.” Viddasala called out to the Iron Bull in a desperate plea. Marian couldn’t understand the words, but the plea was clear. For a weary second the Champion felt her body tense in expectation of a surprise attack.

Bull merely gazed up at the female qunari defiantly, “Not a chance, Ma’am.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Marian saw Dorian’s smile extend greatly. Before anyone else could think, Viddasala cast a hand forward and with a barked order the qunari charged.

The qunari troops were more than capable warriors, but they faced the finest of the Inquisition. The fight turned into a routine blur for Marian who hacked, stabbed and blocked her way through. The air filled with shouts and screams of battle cries and death throws alike. She kept her eyes on the others, Herah especially as she swung her blade. The Inquisitor worked a blaze of steel in her hands, if she was impressive in combat when Marian had first met her, the grey skinned woman was a veritable god of the blade now. When all was said and done, the only qunari left standing where the ones not of the Qun.

The party swiftly moved on to the next chamber, the dragon still thrashing against some form of unseen restraints. It took notice of the group and snarled low and deadly. Rearing its head, the beast hurled fire, forcing the Inquisitor’s party into cover, fire and stone raining down on them.

“We need to move quickly!” Herah shouted over the dragon’s roar, “Viddasala will get away soon.”

“Hey boss!” Bull yelled from the next piece of cover over to the other qunari, “See those gates? We could set her free!” Marian chanced a glance over the ledge she had hidden behind, eyeing the two gates that barred the dragon’s freedom. Liking this plan more than facing the dragon itself and possibly getting eaten, Marian instantly formulated a plan.

“Alright then, let’s do it!” She called out and before an objection could be heard she vaulted over the cover into the pit below with the fire breathing beast and ran.

“Mari!” Herah’s cry reached the human as she sprinted across the floor, but Marian daren’t stop. The dragon immediately took aim and lunged forward, jaws open wide.

The Champion dived behind a broken cart, the wooden husk jerked about as the dragon made crashed into it. Marian crawled to the edge of the cart and peeked round the corner. The beast had grabbed a large pot jar in its maw. Fixing Marian with an intense eye, the dragon growled with murderous intent and snapped its jaws shut. The pot shattered, an explosion filled the air followed by the dragon’s wails.

Marian took advantage of the sudden screen of dust and smoke to run the rest of the way to the lever by the gates. She cursed as she almost fell flat on her face, tripping over a metal pod lying in the ground. Deftly regaining her footing, the Champion carried on, reaching the lever. Pulling it quickly, she threw her gaze back in time to see the smoke clear and the dragon re-emerge.

Amazingly the beast stood strong, a small trickle of thick blood emanated from a few missing teeth and its mouth was blackened with soot, but no other damage was apparent. Its giant eye’s narrowed in vehemence at the human.

Marian gulped. Suddenly very glad they were not truly trying to fight the dragon.

Though the dragon was certainly trying to fight them.

A battle cry drew the attention of both human and dragon as Bull charged at the beast from the rear. Not quite taking her eyes off of the massive qunari as he engaged, Marian noted that Dorian had taken the other side of the room and was working a lever there. The gates began creaking open, far too gradually for the Champion’s liking. Bull dodged most of the dragon’s attacks all the while, buying them time. Kirkwall Champion and Tevinter Magister joined the fray, making to push the beast back out into the open. A cascade of crossbow bolts flew in as well, most of them splintering helplessly on the tough scale. The beast wouldn’t move however.

“Someone think of something!” Dorian yelled over the cacophony of battle.

“Hold on!” Herah’s shout seemed to come from far off. Whatever the qunari had planned, she needed to do it quickly. This dragon was seemingly backed into a corner and all the more dangerous for it.

A mechanical whir added to the strikes and yells, a series of circular discs in the floor rotated, each with a line of small metal pods on them. The discs spun so that the pods faced the dragon and the exit beyond.

“Get back!” Came Herah’s call.

Marian didn’t need to be told twice. She and the others disengaged just in time as the pods each let loose a jet of flame, drenching the dragon in flame and smoke.

The beast roared again and moved back, closer and closer to the exit. Its massive scaled head turned, and finally realised its escape was possible. Without so much as a backwards glance to Marian or the others, the dragon practically galloped into the open air and spread its great wings taking flight. She let out a piercing roar into the night sky.

“There goes our dragon!” Bull shouted with barely contained glee.

“Come on!” Herah ran onwards, prompting the others to follow. The party ran across the open causeway up to yet another Eluvian.

Not halfway across though and the Inquisitor collapsed to her knees, her left hand throbbing a violent green.

“Herah!” Marian ran up to her in alarm and tried to coax the qunari into standing, the horned woman clearly in intense pain.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She tried to wave off the human when the glow passed.

“Like hell you are, you’re getting worse!” Marian struggled to keep the panic out of her voice.

“I’ll be fine, once we get to Solas, he can … fix whatever is wrong.” The qunari tried to ease the human with a weak smile, more of a grimace. It didn’t work very well.

They had little choice but to continue onwards. Marian stooped under Herah’s arm and lifted her up, focusing on moving. She couldn’t help but compare the situation to a journey far beneath the surface so many years ago. Her sister, writhing in agony and all Marian could do was hold her and keep her moving. Blind luck had saved Bethany then, Marian prayed for more today.

Keeping her thoughts and fears silent, Marian soldiered on with Herah leaning on her. Reaching the Eluvian, Marian hesitated, fearing an ambush. But she knew they had to go on. Feeling a familiar touch of magic envelope her, she pushed through the Eluvian and emerged on the edge of an elven ruin. Sunlight beating down on the weary adventurers a harsh contrast to the night shrouded fortress.

Herah picked up her composure as they stepped into the light, firmly but not ungently she removed Marian’s arm and strode forward. The figures of Viddasala and her qunari agents were running on ahead in the distance. Herah motioned for her companions to follow.

Barely more than ten paces and the Inquisitor collapsed again.

“It’s going to … everyone back!” she yelled before being engulfed in a shocking green blast.

Marian feared the worst. For a moment everything had gone so, so wrong. Then the energy dissipated and Herah was there still. Panting hard and getting back to her feet. Though surely in great pain, the qunari would not be bowed, seemingly drawing the strength to carry on from her own agony.

Without another word to her companions, the Inquisitor marched onwards, intent on her mission. Every second gone by, every step she took, every enemy she slew must have hurt her immensely but still she battled on. Countless qunari fell to the Inquisitor’s blade alone. It was actually somewhat frightening, thought Marian. This was more like the Herah she’d imagined to find when they first met, not the Herah she’d gotten to know and fall in love with. Every so often the anchor would glow bright and that hand would twitch slightly, but the qunari would not even pause in her assault. If anything she was gaining momentum, the grey skinned woman pushing herself further and faster. Marian wondered how much longer Herah could push herself like this.

Another Eluvian led their way forward. Marian just caught the sight of Viddasala’s back before she vanished into the glass. Herah sprinted forward, their target so close now.

A giant of a figure landed with an almighty slam into the ground, sending stone and Herah flying backwards. The Champion’s eyes widened, this new foe a mountain of qunari, easily twice as tall and nearly the same as broad as two regular qunari, and they were all big to begin with.

With a growl on her lips and a sword in her hands, Herah lurched forwards unafraid and unmoved by this new threat. Marian and the others rushed into the fray to help. Despite outnumbering the giant in people and fury, the Inquisitor’s party were sent reeling by the horned mage’s power. Marian had never fought anything like it.

With one sweeping throw of his arm, the giant sent Dorian and Varric scampering away for their lives. Marian, Herah and Bull swooped in to attack from all angles, but the giant’s magic kept all their blows at bay. The warriors kept up the assault to try and weaken the monster and finally bring it down. A ribbon of deep purple energy shot towards the Champion and she made to block with her sword, getting the steel up barely in time. The force of the attack pushed her back, her feet scrapping through the earth despite throwing all her weight forward. She caught a rock with the back of her boot and fell backwards, alive but sorely winded.

Picking herself up as fast as her fatigue would allow, Marian lunged back to the fight. Every second counted, both to catch the Viddasala and Solas, and merely to stay alive. The Iron Bull screamed in fury as he brought his great axe down hard onto the giant’s back. The blade merely bounced off of an invisible shield. The massive qunari turned to look at the shorter warrior, in a flash of dark light Bull was batted across the battlefield. The broad warrior crashing into a wall with a sickening crunch, he lay prone.

“Amatus!” Dorian cried and with newly kindled fury unleashed a hail of magic against the beast, the Tevinter’s staff a blur of motion in his hands. The onslaught all hit the qunari without fail, his shield shimmering like a lake in the rain but still unbroken.

Varric launched a fresh salvo of his own from behind Marian, combining his attacks with the moustachioed mage’s. Bolts exploded on the shield with enough force to maim a dragon, but still it held.

Before she could shout out a warning, Marian was forced into a dive as the giant took another swing at her, faster than he had any right to be. The human felt searing heat pass by her as she met the ground roughly. Panting hard as she scrambled to her feet again, she grimly realised that they were all spent and yet they had barely made a scratch.

An echoing explosion of noise and green light drew the attention of all. The Inquisitor stood on the other side of the giant, face set in rage and arm glowing like the sun. She raised her hand, pointing directly at the giant. The beast cocked his head curiously at her. With a sharp snap, a jagged bolt of green energy shot from Herah towards the giant and enveloped him. The monster fought against his bindings but found no purchase. Herah raised the mark. The giant was pulled upwards into the air, still struggling profusely. The noise of unholy energies reverberated all around them.

With one last look of abject fury at her foe, the Inquisitor clenched her fist.

The result was instantaneous. The giant screamed a guttural death cry. The magic that bound him contracted and in a flash he was no more.

The energy burst outwards, knocking everyone back. Marian flew into a wall and saw stars, then nothing.

xxx

Opening her eyes brought about a new wave of pain. A harsh, jagged breath followed by rough coughing brought Marian back into the present, whenever that was. Gazing about gingerly, the Champion picked herself up from the floor. A sharp pain rang out in her head and left leg and everywhere really. She struggled to remember where she was, or what she was doing.

Her eyes fell on slumped bodies. She jogged over to them as fast as her injuries would let her. The towering Iron Bull, Dorian and Varric were all here and all alive she realised with a wave of relief. That relief was short lived however when she belatedly realised that Herah wasn’t with them. Panic manifested itself in her chest and she ran about madly, trying to find some trace of the horned woman.

“Horns!” She called out before spluttering into a coughing fit. A small groan drew her attention in an instant.

“Ow.” It was Varric, rubbing his head in discomfort. “Seriously Hawke, do you have to shout?” The dwarf groaned as he picked himself up off of the floor. “Wha- What happened?” He added dumbly when he saw the frantic expression on his friend’s face.

“Horns- Herah, she- where is she?”

The dwarf’s face fell when he realised they were down one qunari.

_Not just any qunari_. Marian thought, her chest tightening further.

A sudden memory came to her. She spun around to face the Eluvian. Viddasala had gone through it, so must Herah. As she ran up to the elven glass, she realised something was wrong. The Eluvian was glowing with some kind of magic before, now it just looked like a lame mirror, the glassy surface dull and plain.

Without caution, she ran up to the glass and pushed into it, it didn’t budge. The mirror was still.

“Herah!” Marian yelled in her turmoil, banging on the mirror with her fist. All kinds of thoughts and memories galloped through her mind.

She would _not_ lose anyone else, not now.

A hand softly grabbed her by the shoulder and she spun around violently, half expecting a fight. Varric stood there, an understanding look in his eye.

“Just hold on kiddo,” he murmured softly, “we’ll find her, just you wait and see.”

Marian smiled weakly in gratitude at the dwarf, though in truth his words did little to soothe her. Dorian and Bull had seemingly woken up too and were gingerly making their way towards them. Hit with an idea, Marian marched up towards the mage.

“Can’t you open it? Force it to work or something?” She half asked, half pleaded with the Magister.

He sighed sadly in response, “I’m sorry, but elven magic is not my area of expertise. I fear that if I try to do anything to the mirror I may end up breaking it for good.”

The Champion’s heart sank a little further but she nodded lamely at the mage. She turned away from them all, belatedly realising that tears had worked their way free and foolishly feeling self-conscious. Herah had to be on the other side of the mirror, there was no other explanation. What if the qunari was in trouble, wounded or worse, they had no way of knowing and no way of helping. Marian hated feeling helpless, that’s why she’d joined the Inquisition, why she’d stood up for the mages and for countless other causes.

Desperately she wracked her brains for an idea, something, anything. Marian paced around the area, numbly aware of how demented she must have looked to the others. There were no other paths or Eluvian’s, it was just forward or back. It didn’t make sense that the qunari would have gone back the path they’d walked to get here.

She had to be beyond the dormant mirror. Marian growled loudly in frustration.

A strange, otherworldly shunting noise, like something had been locked into place. Marian swung around to face the mirror. The glass had lit up again, its surface shimmering with ancient magic.

She was running before she knew it.

“Hey- Hawke! Wait!” Varric tried to stop her but the human didn’t listen.

She ran into the mirror, for a brief, primal second she feared that she’d crash into it and shatter the glass. But she fell through, the familiar feel of magic caressing her as she passed.

Emerging on the other side, a dozen or more figures, poised at the ready. Marian swung out with her sword before she’d even fully registered them. An arm fell. The Champion gathered herself and took a good look at her quarry.

Qunari, stone statues of qunari, all standing just about to attack her, but they were frozen. For a horrible moment, she thought that the one she’d attacked had been Herah. She sighed in relief seeing that the now one armed statue was male. She’d never seen such a surreal sight. She padded forwards amongst the figures, unsure if they were merely statues or actual people. Their faces were twisted in righteous fury, grim determination. Far too lifelike to be carvings, more like real qunari that had been turned to stone. What in Thedas could have done this?

A shimmering noise from behind her heralded the arrival of the others. Marian turned to see their own shocked expressions as they took in the setting.

“Shit.” Was all Varric could say, summing it all up.

Turning her head forward again, Marian spotted yet another Eluvian further up the path.

_Maker, please don’t lead me on a wild qunari chase_.

She jogged up the steps to the mirror and froze as she reached the top, eyes wide. Herah lay near the foot of the Eluvian, unmoving.

“Over here! Quickly!” Marian yelled to the others, running to the qunari woman as she did. Herah looked still upon the ground.

_Maker, please no._

Nearly reaching her, Marian took in the full extent of it. Herah’s left forearm was missing, a bloodied stump in place where flesh and bone should have been.

Marian’s head was spinning. She practically dived on the woman she loved in her haste. Shaking fingers checked for a pulse. There!

A great jagged breath left the human in relief. She lifted the grey skinned woman’s head gently, trying to coax her back to consciousness. Maker, Herah looked so pale, her breathing so shallow. Marian barely noticed the others reaching her.

Dorian was at the qunari’s arm in a flash, pouring magic into the open wound. The stump’s bleeding slowed, but didn’t stop entirely. He put his hand on the horned woman’s head and muttered an incantation of sorts. Marian thought a little bit of colour returned to Herah’s cheeks, but only a little.

“There, that’s all I can do for now. We need to get her back, quickly.” The mage muttered grimly.

“Here, let me.” Bull kneeled down and scooped the other qunari into his arms gently.

For a foolish moment, Marian wanted to stop him. Herah was hers to carry, hers to protect. Instead she nodded her thanks wordlessly and without further comment the group ran back through towards the Eluvian and the Winter Palace.

The journey back was all a haze to the Champion, later she remembered glancing at the woman in Bull’s arms repeatedly, silently begging her not to die. She was back in the undercity of Kirkwall, her mother stitched together in some horrible abomination of life, slipping away. Then she was in Ferelden, the ogre breaking Carver’s body against the rocks, his head at an unnatural angle. She was a young girl again, stepping into her father’s room, finding him there and all she could do was to keep Bethany from seeing.

Her head and heart were thumping. She couldn’t let it happen again. She _couldn’t_.

xxx

When they jumped back through the last Eluvian they were immediately ushered inside the Palace, the Inquisition agents and healers just a haze of blurry figures to Marian. They requisitioned a room with a bed and got several mage healers in quickly. With much strain to their nerves and sanity, the Inquisitor’s party were made to wait outside for news.

Marian was back to feeling helpless again. She paced endlessly outside the door for what felt like hours. The door never opened once, the only thing emanating from within was the soft hum of healing magic and the quiet murmurs of the healers. It was agonising. Bull and Dorian went to get healing themselves after a while, unable to stand there doing nothing but wait any longer. They promised they’d be back soon and went on their way with worried faces. Varric stayed with the Champion, his old friend. They said nothing to each other, but Marian appreciated his presence all the same.

Finally, the door opened. Marian was there in a flash, having been pacing up the other end of the corridor. A middle aged elven mage came out of the room and gently closed the door behind him, turning to human and dwarf.

“The Inquisitor is fine.”

Marian suddenly felt infinitely lighter. Varric clapped her on the back with a smile.

The healer continued, “It was a close thing, but Magister Dorian bought her all the time we needed.” Marian made a mental note to kiss the Tevinter mage, “She’s still weak but with time and rest she should make a full recovery.” The man gave a small smile and addressed Marian directly. “You may see her now.”

Marian didn’t need to be told twice, thanking the mage profusely she went to the door handle and turned. Before she entered she glanced at Varric, suddenly nervous again.

“Go on,” he encouraged softly, “your lady awaits.” Despite the situation, Marian had to chuckle at that, even if it was weak. With a deep breath, she entered the room.

Herah lay in a large, four-poster bed, not unlike the one she owned at Skyhold. The qunari was awake, surprising Marian, gazing up at the ceiling and breathing deeply. Hearing the human enter the room, she lifted her head slightly and smiled weakly.

“Hey.”

Marian strode up to the bed slowly, not daring to take her eyes from the qunari. Reaching the bed, she kneeled down and reached out a tentative hand to cup a grey cheek, the colour had returned to Herah in droves.

“What were you thinking Horns?” Marian cried without shedding tears, “Why in Thedas did you go on alone? Why?”

Herah couldn’t seem to find the words. She raised her right hand from the bed to hold Marian’s. The human almost pulled away.

“Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again.” Marian snarled, practically shaking from the effort it took to keep herself from slapping the qunari or more tears from falling.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Herah murmured softly, her voice so small and hurt that it made Marian’s heart ache. “I couldn’t let them get away, Viddasala, Solas. It just- it all went so wrong.”

Herah recounted the tale of tale of her meeting with Solas and all the revelations that came with it. Solas, an ancient elven mage mistaken for a god, planned to destroy the world as they knew it to reclaim his past. It was all too much for Marian, for now at least.

She hugged Herah close when the tale was done. “Maker, I was so worried. Don’t _ever_ run off like that again. You once told me that you couldn’t bear to lose me, well I can’t bear to lose you too.” She muttered, trying not to let tears loose, a weak smirk crossed her lips. “I don’t care what Gods or Magisters or whatever is trying to get away,” she felt a suppressed sob rumble through her, she eased back from the qunari to gaze into her silver eyes, “If you run, we run together, deal?”

“I think my running days are over.” Herah muttered sadly and lifted her freshly bandaged stump to examine it.

“Nonsense, you didn’t lose your leg.” Marian hoped to lighten the mood, but when the joke fell flat she tried a different tack. “Listen, whatever happens next, I’m with you. And remember you’re the Inquisitor, there’s nothing in all of Thedas that could stop you when you put your mind to it. Losing one little hand doesn’t change a thing, especially not how I feel about you.” She finished by leaning in to kiss Herah.

The qunari was hesitant at first and in a moment the kiss was tinged with tears. When they separated, Herah wiped at her eyes.

“I don’t deserve you.” She whispered softly and seriously.

“Probably not,” Marian joked with a wink and a smirk, “But Varric is already spoken for, so …”

It made Marian’s world to hear the qunari laugh again.

There was much more of the life and fire back in the horned woman’s eyes. Marian herself felt so much better seeing the grey skinned woman much more like her normal self. The pair stayed there for a while just talking, anything inconsequential, until Herah had shaken away much of the doubt and the pain.

“There’s something I need to do.” She nodded to herself for a few seconds, eyes narrowed in thought. Before Marian could question her, the qunari lifted the sheets and stepped out of bed.

“Hey! Wait, Horns! You shouldn’t be moving around yet!” Marian was at her side in an instant, fearful of a relapse of sorts. Herah was already changing back into her ceremonial garb with some difficulty.

“I need to go to the Council.” The steel and confidence had returned to her voice in full, “There’s still the matter of the Inquisition.” She hopped about for a moment as she tried to worm her way into the breeches.

“Herah, wait! Slow down!” Marian tried to stop her lover to no avail. “You just cheated death. The Council can wait, you don’t owe them-” She was cut off by grey lips on hers. After a moment that was entirely too short to Marian, they parted.

“Trust me.” Was all Herah said with a small smile that somehow beamed. Confidence had returned to the qunari in droves.

“You know, I rather like you like this.” Marian smirked in reply, earning her a chuckle.

Sighing in exasperation and humour, the human opted to help dress the qunari. Soon they were done, though one detail nagged at Marian. The sleeve over the missing forearm hung loose and lame – a great contrast to the tall and proud form of the still recovering qunari – almost as if to mock what had just happened. After a moment’s thought she reached forward and gently tied the fabric into a knot. _There, a lot more roguish._ She thought with a smile.

Inquisitor and Champion left the room, where they were ambushed by most of the Inquisitor’s inner circle. After battling their way through the concerned questions and worried looks, the couple marched their way to the Council’s chambers.

Herah stopped on the way and made a quick detour to Leliana’s chamber, returning with a large, heavily bound wooden book, bearing the seal of the Inquisition. More than a little curious Marian raised an eyebrow at the qunari, but she merely received a small smile in reply. In spite of all that had happened, Herah looked so utterly calm, in control. The Inquisitor was back. They moved on to meet with the Exalted Council. What Herah had planned, Marian could only guess.

They reached the great doors of the chamber and paused for a moment, the guards either side off the entry glancing at each other nervously. Herah took a deep breath, then she nodded at them. The doors opened and the Inquisitor and the Champion stepped inside.

Sounds of bickering greeted them, Josephine locked in a verbal battle with the Duke and Arl. Herah strode through to the front, the crowd gasping as they gradually noticed the Inquisitor’s sudden change in appearance. Marian hung at the back of the chamber again, mightily curious about what was about to happen. Herah reached Josephine’s side. The chamber fell completely silent in expectation.

“You all know what this is.” Herah held aloft the tome, her voice powerful, authoritative. “A writ, from Divine Justinia authorising the formation of the Inquisition.” She turned to face the assembled crowd, her gaze lingering on Marian for a moment, “We pledged to close the Breach, find those responsible and restore order. With or without anyone’s approval.”

A pause, even from the back of the hall, Marian could have sworn that she saw the Divine nod gently in approval.

“We have fulfilled that pledge, and now the war is over, for most of us. It is time for our soldiers to sheathe their swords and go home. To all who served: Thank you, it has been an honour.” The Inquisitor turned to Josephine, handing her the writ. The Ambassador accepted it gingerly, looking as surprised as anyone.

For a moment, Herah’s eyes met Marian’s again, silver fire that sent a shiver down the human’s spine.

“Effective immediately, the Inquisition is disbanded.”

A collective shocked gasp held the room as the Inquisitor – no, Herah Adaar strode back down the central aisle. Maybe Marian was imagining it, but Herah seemed to stand ten feet tall, as if the literal weight of the world and all its troubles had been lifted from her shoulders. The Champion smiled to herself, she’d never been happier to have been wrong.

Marian moved to meet Herah, an amused smirk in place which seemed to make the former Inquisitor smile freely.

The pair walked out of the chamber together, side by side. Marian’s fingers found themselves entwining around Herah’s as they wordlessly ambled through the gardens of the Winter Palace. They came across a balcony that looked out over the forests surrounding the magnificent structure of the palace, the same one where they had shared a dance so long ago. Herah breathed in the fresh air deeply as the dusk sky rolled far overhead, her smile contented and at peace.

What the future held for them was unclear, but they were together, and that was all they needed to know.


	14. Time and Rest

**Time and Rest**

A hot summer sun beat down on the brick and dirt square. Though the buildings were tall and cramped, the height of the large burning orb in the sky made shade a rare thing. Only a single broad tree in the centre of the clearing offered respite, seemingly the sole piece of life to find any purchase amongst the stone. That and the countless elves who made this cramped section of the city their home.

A group of them struggled with a large slab of pure mountain rock, carved and brought to the little square at no small expense. The piece of stone being lifted in by cranes and pulley’s to contribute to a new wall, nearly complete.

A new house was under construction, built to replace the ruined remains that had scared the Alienage for years. Others worked away sawing wood, carefully fashioning the parts for a new doorway, window shutters and more. Even more still went about their everyday business, trying to clean their clothes outside in the dusty air to little avail. A couple of pointy eared souls stood by flimsy market stalls in the vain hope of selling some of their meagre wares. Life was tough here, but the elves battled to survive.

A shout of warning drew many pointed ears, “It’s gonna go!”

The rock being lifted into place groaned against its restraints. Then they snapped. Many screamed and ran for cover. The men and women lifting the stone from below held their ground, unable to get clear in fear they would all be crushed together.

A figure, a giant compared to the lithe elves ran in. She gripped the rock with whatever purchase she could find. “Go!” She yelled.

A second of hesitation, the elves were loath to leave anyone behind, yet they scampered back on her word. The giant left to contend with the rock alone, time and experience honed muscles fighting against the weight. For a horrible moment, it seemed she would be crushed under its mass. Then, with a primal growl she shunted the masonry upwards, giving her enough time to jump back.

The stone fell, smashing into the ground, only just missing two bare, grey feet. A cloud of dust erupted into the air, smothering that quarter of the square in a dirty beige fog. Everyone was coughing, the elves edged forward into the mist of debris, wary of what they might find.

The dust slowly cleared, and in its place stood Herah Adaar, wafting about her face with her one whole arm and spluttering the dirt out of her lungs. Her simple white shirt had turned dark beige with all the dust and the sweat, her white ponytail clogged like her lungs with fine debris.

A relieved cheer rang out among the elves and they rushed to make sure she was ok. The horned woman reassured them as best she could with a chest full of dust. Taking a moment or ten to settle herself, Herah went to grab a nearby pitcher of water, rinsing her mouth out and splashing some in her face for good measure. Platinum eyes narrowed as she surveyed the damage. The stone still looked to be in good enough shape to use, it was the tools that were the problem. The elves all too often had to make do with the scraps of human society, food, tools, even homes.

She was just making a mental note to get some better quality tools when what could only be described as an alarmed squeak reached her ears.

“Oh Creator’s, what happened?” The elven mage Merrill scurried up to Herah from the stairs leading into the square, hands over her shocked mouth in an almost comical way, “No one was hurt were they?”

“No, it’s alright, everyone’s fine,” Herah raised her hand in an effort to calm the former Dalish elf, “It’s just that the stone fell. The tools broke, _again_. I’ll have a word or two with the Craftsmen’s Guild about this.” She muttered darkly.

“Oh, well, it’s all fine then, as long as no one was hurt that’s all that matters.” The ever sunny mage declared. “Thank you for helping out. You’re so big and all and- I don’t mean big as in fat! Gods no, I mean big and strong and kind … not like we elves- Not that we’re not kind mind you! At least I hope we are, I mean in the big and strong kind of-”

“Thank you Merrill,” Herah cut her off with a strained smile, this was after all the thirteenth time the elven woman had thanked her this week alone, “It’s really no bother.”

In truth Herah enjoyed the work, she couldn’t carve or fashion a table or do much that required dual manual dexterity anymore, but she still had her strength. Even if the most she could do was carry heavy tools, lift entire walls or stop them crushing others, she was happy.

The elven woman giggled, “Well, thank you again anyway.” She turned her attention to the partially built home. “I’m sure it will look lovely when it’s all finished.”

Herah doubted that, despite their best efforts none of those present were master craftsmen, but she hummed in vague agreement and nodded anyway.

After a short rest, Herah and the rest of the alienage’s workforce got back to it. Someone had managed to ‘acquire’ some better quality pulley systems from somewhere. The former Inquisitor wondered for a moment whether she should just allow such a thing, but seeing how poorly the elves had it in the city, she simply opted to smile and help hold the lock and tackle while it was all fixed in place.

Soon enough, fresh ropes had been secured around the massive stone slab and it was ready to lift. Herah pulled hard on the ropes one handed, with some marginal assistance from several other elves, mostly they held the strain as she actually pulled the masonry higher with each stroke of her arm. Merrill shouted encouragement from the side at a safe distance. Sweat pouring down her brow, Herah finally hefted the masonry high enough for the elves atop the building to work it into place.

“That’s it!” One of them called from behind the stone. “Let ‘er go!”

Herah and the others eased off the rope, the wall stayed. One of the elves poked his head through the newly fitted window frame and gave a jaunty salute, smiling broadly. The qunari found herself returning in kind and trudged over to the great tree, desperately needing a breather.

It didn’t take long for a new door and window shutters to be fitted, freshly carved furniture was jimmied into the house and a rough, handmade rug was lovingly laid down. Herah watched the elves do the rest of the work, the heavy lifting over and done with, marvelling at their sense of community and togetherness. Most of the elves at work already had homes of their own around the square, but still they worked tirelessly for their neighbours. Despite the near squalid conditions, Herah liked this part of the city.

When the house was finished enough to be called a home, the elves retired for a communal dinner in the square. Herah ate with them, silent mostly, listening to the others relay their tales and jokes. But her smile was genuine, and she waved back fondly as she walked back up the steps towards the higher portions of the city, a bit of a spring in the horned woman’s step.

Now for the challenging part of her day.

xxx

It wasn’t the first time Marian had wondered just why she had returned.

She could never deny that she held a distinct fondness for the so called City of Chains, in spite of its obvious drawbacks, that charming nickname being one of them. Despite the high walls and buildings that seemed to loom over you wherever you went, Marian found a certain appeal in the stark, clear-cut architecture. It was architecture that she’d gotten to know very well through her many adventures throughout the city. As a result of those adventures, she knew the city of Kirkwall better than anywhere else in Thedas.

Above all else though, she’d built a life here, laid down roots that she would loath to tear up. Her many close friends and associates lived here and those that didn’t often came to visit. In fact she could say that she was on close terms with many of the cities colourful yet often bizarre denizens, from those who lurked in the depths of Darktown to quite literally the Viscount himself.

Still, there were days when the city seemed to claw away at her, or at least some aspects of it anyway. This was one of those days.

She rubbed at her eyes wearily in her seat at Viscount Tethras’ desk. Marian and Varric were both sat with similar tired expressions as Seneschal Bran droned on about seemingly every minute detail of the city’s ever growing list of problems. The Champion levelled a glare at the Viscount as the Seneschal prattled on inanely about the levels of taxation for Orlesian tea or some such drivel.

The dwarf had sent a messenger hours previous asking, no begging Marian to come and meet him at the keep. Expecting a life and death situation of revolutionaries, blood mages or worse, Marian naturally went to her friend’s aid. After all she was the Champion of Kirkwall. It wouldn’t befit her title, or endear her to the city too much, had she stayed at home to relax with a bottle of wine when a crisis was underway. Only instead of impending disaster, she had arrived to find that he merely wanted someone else to join in with the suffering of everyday state business.

She took pleasure in imagining the dwarf sailing through the open window. It would be so easy. He was a dwarf and not a particularly burly one at that. Just one heave and away he’d fly.

Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Varric shifted his crown laden head to face her with a raised eyebrow. Marian grinned back, toothily. The dwarf received the message.

“Bran.” Varric interrupted with a wave of his hand. The Seneschal reluctantly paused in his speech, seemingly affronted at the Viscount’s informality. “That’s enough, we can finish this later.”

From the look on the Seneschal’s face, he dearly wanted to continue. Marian had noted with despair that Bran had brought a substantial collection of papers and scrolls with him for this meeting. Yet he seemed to be familiar with such whims and had long ago given up on trying to correct the Viscount’s behaviour. Instead, he simply murmured, “As you wish, Viscount.” He bowed deeply to the dwarf, merely inclined his head ever so slightly to the Champion, earning him a ghost of a chuckle, and turned out of the office.

As soon as he was gone, Marian got up from her seat to stretch theatrically, neck cracking exquisitely.

“Maker’s breath, I thought that would never end.” She turned to the Viscount and half smiled, half scowled. “You sneaky little dwarf, I’m going to get you back for this.”

The dwarf in question raised his hands, feigning innocence. “Matters of state Hawke,” His code phrase for anything that needed the Champion’s immediate attention, “you know how it is.”

“Naturally.” The human droned humourlessly and strode around the desk and swiped the crown of the Viscount from the dwarf’s head. Anyone else would have faced a term in jail for that. All Marian got was a chuckle. “Seeing as _matters of state_ keep calling, perhaps I should be Viscount instead?”

She placed the thin, iron band on her head and moved to a mirror on the wall. She didn’t think of herself as particularly vain, but she had to admit, she looked good. She’d let her spiky black hair grow in the past year and she’d adopted a loose ponytail style akin to Herah’s. Strands of her fringe poked out over the crown. The golden gilding and spiked motifs somehow added a certain intensity to her face, regal and commanding.

A brazen fantasy came to mind: Marian sat on the Viscount’s throne, a particular qunari servant ready to see to her every demand …

“Sure,” Varric’s chuckle drew Marian’s mind out of the gutter, “then maybe you can deal with Bran every day.”

That put a dampener on any lewd fantasy.

Marian sighed and turned away from the mirror, though she kept the crown on. “You had to ruin my fun didn’t you Viscount.” She smirked at the dwarf, “Maybe it’s best if you kept the Seneschal’s company then.”

“I hope you’re not implying what I think you are Hawke.” Varric looked incredulously at the human. “Maker’s balls I don’t even want to know.” Marian laughed at his shudder of disgust.

“If Bran’s not to your liking then replace him. Get a cute dwarven girl instead.” The Champion teased with a wiggle of her eyebrows. For a few seconds Varric seemed to give the idea serious consideration.

“Nah, despite his best efforts to be the most boring man in Thedas, Bran knows what he’s doing. I’d have to do at least twice as much work without him.” Varric murmured wiping at his eyes.

“Maker forbid the Viscount should earn his keep.” Marian commented with a poke to the dwarf’s shoulder. Varric merely shrugged his shoulders with a smile.

“Such are the perils of leadership.” He said simply with a lazy smile before leaning forward in his chair. “Enough of that, I did actually want to see you. You see, word is that there’s some thugs been roaming up and down the countryside lately and-”

“And you want the fearless Champion to see them off,” Marian finished with a smirk, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Might not be that simple Hawke,” Varric grimaced, “word is, they come from Starkhaven.”

Marian sighed and rubbed at her eyes wearily. Ever since the Inquisition had sent forces to bolster the city guard to fend off an invasion years ago, Prince Sebastian had gone back to Starkhaven to bide his time. Now that the Inquisition was no more, the Prince had been probing the city every now and then. Not officially of course, the roving bands that disrupted the roads never wore any colours or emblems, but only a fool wouldn’t realise who sent them. Especially as they seemed more intent on questioning any and all passers about apostates and maleficarum than causing mindless havoc, that usually came after.

“You think another attack is coming?” Marian bit her lip in concern.

“Can’t rule it out, but Choir Boy’s not completely stupid. He knows you’re here for one.” Varric gave a sly smile. “He’d have to build one hell of a force to even think about it.”

“Perhaps I should just march into Starkhaven, smack some sense into him.” Marian shook her head ruefully.

She couldn’t believe just how far Sebastian would go in the name of justice. Ironically, he had become a lot like the fugitive mage he sought so desperately. Anders hadn’t been in the city for years, of that Marian was certain. Where he was now was anyone’s guess, but those answers wouldn’t be found in Kirkwall, no matter how much the Prince pressed at the gates.

“Easy there Champion,” Varric held up his hands to calm the human, “a suicide charge probably won’t solve anything here.”

“I can take anything Sebastian can throw at me.” Marian declared and she meant it.

“I can’t imagine your girlfriend would be too happy with you though.” Varric gave her another sly smirk. “Speaking of, how is she doing these days?”

The sudden change of subject drained all the frustrated anger from the Champion. “Better, much better. Helping with the rebuilding in Lowtown has given her something to put her energy into, that and the training.” She sighed as she thought of the first few weeks of their ‘semi-retirement’ in Kirkwall.

Going from running an organisation that could topple nations to more sedate city life had been difficult for the qunari. She’d been anxious, restless, wanting to get back out into the field where she felt she could do some practical good again. The fact that Marian had been co-opted into all kinds of ventures to help keep the city safe while Herah was often left at home to lead a more domestic life had only aggravated matters. Marian had been reluctant to let the qunari join. Her missing hand meant that she couldn’t wield her favoured great sword, which left Herah with weapons that made her less than effective. After many an impassioned fight and more than a few pleas, the Champion had eventually relented and allowed the horned woman to join her on a raid of a bandit camp.

Big mistake.

They had gotten the jump on the thugs, but despite her strength and speed, Herah was lucky to get out of there with merely scratches. The image of the qunari pressed against the canyon wall, her sword laying in the dirt too far away, a trio of bandits looming over her despite each being a good head shorter, was burned into the Champion’s mind. It took all of Marian’s skill and experience to get to the horned woman in time. After that episode, Marian had forbidden the qunari from any real combat until she could beat the Champion in a duel again. That declaration hadn’t gone down well and things were frosty between the two women for a while.

After the third day of stony silence between them, Herah had gone to the guard barracks and practically demanded that Aveline let her train. It spoke volumes for Aveline’s approval of the qunari’s skills and experience that she allowed it with only a long hard look at the former Inquisitor as an entrance exam. The redhead had later told Hawke: ‘My men could use someone like her to scare them out of their breeches’.

After that first day of training, Herah had come back to their home exhausted, sweaty, battered and bruised. Human and qunari then proceeded to make up, most enthusiastically, Marian remembered with a silly smile.

“Good to hear,” Varric once again reclaimed the human’s attention, “she’s a good ‘un that girl.”

“Not getting sentimental now are you Varric?”

“Andraste’s tits no. Just that Aveline likes having her around to help whip her men into shape, I think she’s after keeping the old Inquisitor on as a recruit fulltime. Although I reckon she’s more concerned about Starkhaven. Can’t say I blame her. She probably wants to make sure two of the best and most famous of warriors in all Thedas don’t wander out before the big fight. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of her sword arm if you and tall, horned and fearsome suddenly move outta town.”

“Don’t worry.” Marian smiled warmly. “We’re not going anywhere, at the very least not until all this fun with Starkhaven is done.”

Varric chuckled at that. “Well, consider the Viscount’s Office officially relieved then.”

“You didn’t actually think that we’d leave did you?”

“Me? No. The Guard-Captain? Another story. Besides, Aveline gets all her gossip on you from Herah now. Or she at least tries to. You’re the irresponsible one, remember?” The dwarf smirked at Marian’s scowl. “Don’t give me that look Hawke. You should have been here a few weeks back. Your lady was swearing up a blue streak about you while beating the crap outta the guards.” Marian grimaced at the thought. “Still, if you wanted to leave again, I reckon there’s a nug’s chance in hell that she wouldn’t follow you.”

Marian’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying that Horns thinks I want to leave?”

“I think it’s just Aveline overreacting to be honest. Back when you and the Former Inquisitorialness had that fight she must have been pretty livid with you, the way she was smashing up the barracks. At least that’s the way Aveline tells it. I knew it was nothing more than an outpouring of domestic bliss really.”

Marian laughed at that, imagining the whole keep being brought to ruins by her lover’s ire.

“That was a while ago, we’re all better now.” She reassured the dwarf with a smile.

“I’ll bet,” Varric snickered with a wiggle of eyebrow, earning him rolled eyes, “I haven’t heard nearly as much noise from down there since.”

Just then the door to the office opened and human and dwarf turned to see the Guard-Captain Aveline Vallen enter the room. Captain’s armour gleaming in spite of the many nicks and cuts into the metal that spoke of years of hard service. Stern looking as ever, she’d cropped her hair short, snug underneath a familiar red headband. Aveline took one look at Varric then she switched her gaze to Marian, where her eyes travelled to the Champion’s head.

“Maker’s breath,” She muttered wearily, “don’t tell me you’re in charge now?” she asked in frustration.

Marian cocked her head in confusion for a moment before remembering the crown on her head.

Her cocky smirk returned in force. “But of course Guard-Captain,” the Champion put on her most regal and authoritative voice, “fetch me my sword, I wish to behead the nobility today.”

“Hmm, on second thoughts I could make use of this.” Aveline murmured absently as she rubbed her chin in thought. “Can I give you some recommendations?” She added with a smirk.

“Quiet, peasant.” Marian commanded with a flourish of hand.

The redhead’s eyes darkened into a scowl and she made to swat at the Champion with a gauntleted fist.

“Ah! Stop, sorry, sorry! I’ll behave.” Marian begged as she danced out of the captain’s reach, Varric merely laughed at her plight.

“You better,” Aveline replied with a humoured smirk, “I’m glad you’re here actually, saves me tracking you down.”

“Why does everyone need my help?” Marian wondered out loud for not the first time in her life.

“It’s not a favour, for once,” Aveline commented pointedly, “I just wanted to see how you were, make sure the city is treating you and your qunari right and-”

“Everything’s fine.” Marian cut off the redhead with a smirk. In truth there had been a few issues with some of the townspeople. Some of those who’d lived through the Arishok’s occupation evidently still held quite the grudge against any of the horned race. Usually a glare or two from the Champion was enough to send them scampering away. This behaviour was balanced out though by those who truly believed that the qunari was the Herald of Andraste, though both Herah and Marian often found those types to be equally annoying. If Herah had any real reservations about Kirkwall’s populace she didn’t share them, and Marian had certainly made to ask.

Still, the situation was slowly getting better. Helped – or hindered, depending on who answered – by the presence of Herah’s old comrades in the Valo-Kas mercenary band. The mercenaries had been hired by the new Viscount to bolster the city’s defences. Aveline had certainly had a word or two to say about that arrangement, but in quick order the Valo-Kas had proven themselves to be capable and honourable warriors. This was in spite of the fact that some of them had taken to the Hanged Man a little too earnestly. Friendly Tal Vashoth were gradually becoming something of a familiar sight in the City of Chains. The wounds of the Arishok’s short-lived occupation were slowly healing over, though the scars would likely always remain. If nothing else, the presence of Herah’s old friends had helped her settle in, even if just a little bit better.

“We’re not leaving anytime soon if that’s what you’re worried about.” Marian reassured the Guard-Captain with a knowing smile.

Aveline turned her gaze to scowl accusingly at Varric. The Viscount merely shrugged his shoulders with a smile, the very embodiment of innocence and the Guard-Captain didn’t buy it for a second.

“I see.” the redhead ground out slowly, not taking her eyes off of the troublesome dwarf. “Well, seeing as subtlety has gone out the window,” she finally turned back to the Champion, “I was concerned, considering the state she was in when she first came to the barracks. You know she nearly broke Brennan’s arm the other week.”

“So I hear.” Marian liked Brennan, but she couldn’t help but feel a dose of pride fill her at hearing that. “So she’s getting better?”

“In a sense, she mostly just uses her strength to try and overpower anyone I throw at her.” Aveline scowled lightly as she crossed her arms. “She’s undoubtedly a damn good fighter, but there’s little finesse there. She loses most of the time because she doesn’t use her weapon properly. She’s clearly not used to it.”

“She’s not used to only having one hand.” Marian felt her temper rising. She knew that Aveline was only being honest. Still, she couldn’t help but feel protective of the giant horned woman who’d stopped a would-be-god in his tracks, strange as it sounded.

“I know,” Aveline met the Champion’s glare evenly, “but she’s starting from scratch here. Well, not quite, but she’s having to relearn how to move, how to hold her blade and herself in a fight.” Her expression softened. “She’ll get there, it might take a while, but she will. She’s got fire in her alright, maybe too much.”

“Is that a problem?”

Aveline paused a whole ten seconds before answering.

“I think she expects too much from herself, like she feels she should have it all nearly mastered already. I’m not surprised really, given all you two have told me about her. But she’s getting frustrated, really frustrated. I think she needs bringing back down to earth again. A sympathetic ear or …”

“Hawke to the rescue again.” The Champion finished with something of a weary smile.

“It’s why we keep you around.” Varric intoned with a good natured wink.

Aveline huffed with a small smile, “I knew there had to be a reason.” She joined in on the joke for once, earning her a half-hearted glare from Marian.

“You two will be fine kiddo, you always are.” Varric smiled warmly as the Champion and Guard-Captain turned to the door. “Oh, Hawke, you’re forgetting something.” He tapped his forehead when Marian turned back to him with a quizzical look. The human smiled as she removed the crown and threw it back to the dwarf who caught it with ease.

The two warrior women moved through the keep swiftly, the guard barracks only being on the other side of the main hall. As they entered the barracks, Marian heard the sound of men and women calling and shouting and the sound of sticks being struck together in an erratic rhythm emanating from beyond the walls. Aveline led her through to the back of the barracks, acknowledging her men and women as she passed and they snapped to attention.

The redhead opened a door and the pair stepped out into a closed courtyard. A small crowd of guards gathered around the centre, where guardsman Donnic was locked in battle with Herah Adaar.

She’d only been there for a moment and yet Marian could tell from a glance that things weren’t going well for the qunari. The frustrated grimace on her lips and the amount of sweat that covered her in comparison to Aveline’s husband didn’t bode well. A low snarl and Herah swung out with her wooden blade, a wide diagonal arc that Donnic dodged with ease. That didn’t deter the qunari though and she pressed the attack, none of her strikes found their mark however, though Donnic was forced backwards.

“See what I mean?” Aveline intoned quietly from Marian’s side, “Look at her form, she thinks she’s wielding a sword twice that size.” Marian could only nod as she watched the duel.

Herah lunged forward at Donnic’s torso and nearly caught the experienced guardsman off guard, his blade only just connecting in time to deflect the attack. Herah spun on her heel and used the momentum to deliver a high backhand. The human was forced back under her strength, struggling to regain his footing. The qunari seized the advantage and pressed a series of quick jabs, the last managing to find purchase on his arm, but only just. Herah sensed that the tide was turning, Marian could read it in her face. The former Inquisitor upped the speed of her attacks, forcing Donnic into the wall at his back. When he thudded into the stonework, she seized her chance. A thick whoosh of air as the horned woman brought her sword across with all her strength, aiming to fling Donnic’s blade from his hand.

But she leaned back, Marian could see it. It was only slight, just enough to balance herself with a heavier, longer blade. The result of years of hard earned experience, but it made all the difference. Herah’s blade missed Donnic’s by a hairs breadth and her arm went wild, not meeting the resistance she was expecting. Then in a flash, Donnic struck. He pushed himself off the wall and planted a shoulder into the qunari’s torso, throwing her off balance. She stumbled and fell back, landing roughly in the dirt. Before she could even lift her head up, the tip of Donnic’s blade was hovering right in front of her eyes.

Silence filled the courtyard save for the heavy panting of human and qunari. Then, Donnic removed the blade and offered his hand to the former Inquisitor, who only hesitated a moment before taking it.

The assembled crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause and moved in to congratulate them both. For that Marian was silently grateful, though Herah took the condolences with grace, the Champion could tell there was wounded pride there. Marian waited a few moments for the crowd to thin out before moving forward.

The qunari finally noticed her lover, already flushed cheeks deepening in colour.

“Not bad,” Marian said honestly with an encouraging smile, “you almost had him for a moment there.”

Herah said nothing in response, merely nodded with an embarrassed smile while still panting.

“I’m serious,” Marian pressed softly, her smile widening, “you should be proud.”

“She’s right you know.” Donnic appeared to their side, breathing just as hard as the qunari. “You fought well, another couple of inches and that would have been the end of me.” He joked easily.

That brought a half chuckle to Herah’s lips. “Probably for the best then, otherwise the Guard-Captain would have had me arrested.”

“I’d prefer a beheading.” Aveline muttered with a good natured smile.

“So,” Herah patted her clothes down with her hand and stump to banish the dust, “Who am I fighting next?”

“No one.” Aveline stuck her hand up to cut off the inevitable complaint. “You need to go back to your mansion and take a break. I still need some guards who are fit enough to actually do their job.”

“I’m still good to fight. No need to stop on my account.” Donnic protested through his panting. Aveline’s stern eyes softened slightly for a moment before the Guard’s-Captain took over.

“Rest guardsman. That’s an order.”

“Aye Captain.” Donnic replied with the hint of a smile and with a lingering look at the Guard-Captain he walked off to the mess.

Aveline dragged her gaze away from her husband after a moment to regard the qunari. “That goes for you too, recruit.”

“I’m not a guard.” Herah protested.

“You are while you’re using my barracks. Go home, rest, get cleaned up, don’t come back till tomorrow. Is that clear recruit?” Aveline barked up at the taller woman like the qunari was a fresh faced troublemaker.

Marian could have sworn she saw Herah swallow nervously. She never thought she’d see the sight.

“Aye Captain.” The qunari mirrored Donnic’s address and made to leave the yard quickly.

Marian hurried to catch up. “I’ll go too before you start ordering me around as well.” She called back to Aveline with a smirk.

“Like you’d listen to me anyway.” The redhead replied with a shake of her head.

xxx

Eye’s subtle and not followed the famous couple as they strode through the streets of Kirkwall to home. Some tried to get their attention to no avail, human and qunari keeping to their own company in comfortable silence. Herah idly rubbed at the stump where a hand should have been, scowling slightly at the irritation that couldn’t quite be sated. She was bruised and battered a little from her days work in the alienage and in the barracks, yet it was always the phantom pain that got to her the most, even if it was slight. She shook her head sharply in a fresh attempt at ignoring it.

As they reached the front door of their home Herah idly wondered why Marian had never bothered to rename the manor, she was a Hawke after all not an Amell. After a moment’s thought however, the idea didn’t sit quite right with her. This was the seat of the Amell family for generations, the last remnant of those times. If Marian tampered with the formal name of the place it would be like sweeping all that history away. The Hawkes were the modern branch of the Amell clan, as few and dispersed as they were.

“Aveline seems impressed with you, _recruit_.” Marian teased idly as she unlocked the door and entered the manor.

“Maybe that means she’ll finally trust me with real action now.” Herah muttered more than a little bitterly.

Marian turned to face her frustrated lover. “She’ll give you something when she knows you’re ready.” The Champion attempted to soothe with a sympathetic hand rubbing a grey shoulder. Before the taller woman could reply with the inevitable _‘I’m ready now’_ Marian added, “And by ready, I mean ready to Aveline’s standards, and those are pretty high.”

Herah growled in frustration. “Just don’t tell me to be patient again. I’ve had enough of _patient_.” The horned woman warned with narrowed eyes before she stomped off to the living room.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Marian attempted to assure her with the nervous ghost of a chuckle before Herah left the room.

The former Inquisitor took to pacing aimlessly around the living room for a while, alone. She paused in front of the fireplace, sighing wearily. She hated this, this constant irritation and restlessness she felt. Herah made to rub at her face with a hand, then found nothing to rub with. She gazed down at the stump, a neat scar over the end where the physicians had worked their magic. The qunari gave a short bitter laugh at her own stupidity.

It wasn’t that she particularly wanted to be the Inquisitor again. She was happily at peace with that fact. It was just the sudden, sharp shift in her capabilities, physical or otherwise that she found so disconcerting. There was a time not so long ago when she could do anything, she could fight giants and dragons, even build nations or bring them to their knees. Now, she couldn’t even open a jar on her own without a degree of difficulty.

Herah rubbed at her eyes with her remaining hand. She mentally cursed herself for her thoughts. Truth be told Herah led a great life now. She was generally well respected in her community, even in spite of her grey skin and prominent horns. She had fulfilling work and was training to get back into fighting shape. She was even in a loving relationship.

And yet, despite the logical part of her mind assuring her of all these things, it was all unbalanced by a great sense of jarring uncertainty. Her life now was so calm, so peaceful that it unsettled her.

Even as a child Herah had been a party to conflict, she had seen it be inflicted on her family many times. Early enough she was jumping into the fray to help her father protect them. She practically grew up with a sword in hand so becoming a mercenary was a simple decision for a young woman looking to make a start in the world. Maybe that was her problem, she’d known conflict all her life, so that now peace had finally settled, she was lost. When the Inquisition came to be, Herah had been so composed while all those around her had panicked. In the upmost chaos she was calm, perhaps even because of it. Now though, when there was no impending doom on the horizon or an opposing army to stare down, the former Inquisitor was constantly agitated. It was like an endless quiet before the storm and Herah felt tense and vulnerable.

She had gotten somewhat better at handling the peace and quiet since she’d effectively been retired. Kirkwall was a fairly lively city for one which seemed to help. Her work helping to rebuild and training with the guards served incredibly well to drain her anxious energies.

Perhaps the biggest help remarkably was Marian. Though the human woman loved to push the qunari’s buttons, and was very good at it, she could be surprisingly understanding and patient with the taller woman. A sharp pain of regret shot through Herah that had nothing to do with her injury. She’d been so testy with the other woman of late, and the Champion had been nothing but kind with her. Her lover had given so much and had never asked for anything in return. Well, nothing overly taxing at any rate. Ever since the Inquisition had been disbanded Marian had been there for her, right by her side. When all the others had gotten on with their lives, it was Marian who stuck by Herah.

As if summoned by the qunari’s thoughts, Marian padded into the living room, holding two full glasses of wine. She tilted her head with an easy smile at making eye contact with the taller woman, and Herah was immediately struck by how beautiful she was. Marian seemed to have blossomed even more so in the last year or so and was now a woman well and truly in her prime. Well, she had been for a while now, but Herah always felt like she’d only just noticed every time she laid eyes on her. Herah felt her cheeks burning a little and turned away to resume pacing back up and down in front of the fire, idly scratching at the end of her stump with a furrowed expression.

The human woman shook her head lightly with a sigh and placed the glasses down on the nearby table before pulling the horned woman over to the settee, like she always did. The qunari resisted only for a moment then relented with a put upon pout, like she always did. She silently cursed herself for craving the human’s touch so.

“Is it hurting again?” Marian soothed with her voice as her hands soothed over the scared skin.

Herah merely murmured in reply, more of a growl really, with an increasing blush, steadfastly refused to meet her lover’s gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, Herah spotted the human’s lips turning up into a knowing smirk. The couple sat there in relative silence as they carried on their ritual, Marian gently massaging the stump where a grey arm should have been and Herah staring into the crackling fireplace lost in thought.

“I’m sorry,” Herah murmured tentatively after a while, hesitantly turning to face her lover, “for everything.”

Marian stopped massaging, tilting her head in confusion. The qunari rubbed at the back of her neck with her one hand, biting her lip in embarrassment, she could feel her own blush growing intensely yet she had to say this.

“I know I’ve been really … difficult lately and, well, I’m sorry for all of that. I just- I just want you know that I appreciate everything you’re doing for me- everything you have done for me as- as well.”

In spite of everything they had been through together, Herah still had difficulty in expressing her deepest feelings in anything better than ‘awkward’. It was one of her key failings, she was certain of that. So she was surprised when Marian lifted the grey stump and placed a gentle kiss right along the scar.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for,” Marian declared earnestly and Herah felt it, “I know it can’t be an easy thing, this … this transition, but you’ll get through this- _We_ will. I’m always here for you Horns. Remember, whatever happens, we do it together, deal?” Marian reached up to cup the qunari’s flushed cheek with one hand.

Herah failed to stifle a small chuckle and a growing smile. How she had managed to find someone like Marian in all the chaos of war, she couldn’t even begin to guess at the odds. She didn’t often count her blessings, but Marian was her greatest. It was amazing to think how all of the last few years had happened. When they first met, the two women were practically ready to fight each other – kill each other even. Now, they would each fight to the death just to keep the other safe.

“Deal.” Herah somehow managed to get out, voice somewhat strained. “You’re incredible. I don’t deserve you.” Her eyes a little wet in spite of herself.

“You’re the only one who does you fool.” Marian laughed with her own eyes shimmering glossily and pulled Herah into a deep kiss. Then she playfully swatted the qunari who laughed clearer and purer than she had in months.

The couple relaxed into the settee, Marian reaching for the wine and handing a glass over. Staring blissfully into the fire, the pair huddled close, Marian resting her head on her lover’s shoulder. Each listening to the sound of the other breathing, mixed with the sizzle of the hearth. The sun gradually fell below the window ledges, casting the room in the dark amber glow of the fire.

“So, how was your day?” Herah murmured into Marian’s ear warmly, lazily smelling the human’s hair.

The Champion snorted lightly at the question. “Oh, you know, exhilarating, as usual.” The human muttered dryly. “Bran treated me to the most delightful lecture on taxes or … something or other.”

“That bad?” Herah questioned with a snicker. Marian lifted her head from her lover’s shoulder to level a playful scowl at the horned woman.

“Need I remind you who was comforting you not so long ago?” She quizzed with a theatrically hurt expression, poking the qunari in the shoulder.

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” To her credit, Herah actually removed the smirk from her face, mostly.

“You better be.” Marian remarked with a smirk of her own, she shuffled her position and not so softly sat upon the qunari’s lap, leaning back on top of her lazily. Herah emitted a small grunt and a chuckle.

Herah idly nuzzled the top of the human’s head, her hand drawing lazy circles over Marian’s stomach.

“I could have a word with the Viscount you know,” the Champion perused her fingernails in fake idleness, “maybe I should tell him he needs a new advisor, someone tall, grey and with horns perhaps.” Black hair tilted back to reveal blue eyes and an upside down smirk. “Do you know anyone like that?”

“I said that I’m sorry,” Herah pleaded dramatically with a barely concealed grin, “Is there anything I can do to save me from this terrible fate?”

“Careful, Varric might take it personally if he should happen to hear that.” The Champion chuckled.

Herah saw Marian’s smirk suddenly find its highest setting as a thought drifted into mind. The human lifted herself from the qunari, turned around and plopped back down to straddle Herah.

“Well,” Marian began as she very deliberately placed her arms around her lover’s neck, “I suppose there is something you could do for me.”

“Mm hmm,” Herah rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. She could read the other woman like a book, but still she placed her toned arms around the human’s equally toned waist. “And what might that be?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

“Perhaps I could show you what I had in mind.” Marian leered wickedly, flashing her eyebrows suggestively. “Say, upstairs.”

Herah put a finger to her lips in extreme thought, “Hmm, are you propositioning the former Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste?”

“Yes, yes I am.” Marian flashed the qunari a winning smirk, earning her a chuckle at least.

Herah leaned forward and started nuzzling the human’s neck with a smirk of her own. She purred deep in her throat, “Well, who am I to deny the Champion of Kirkwall?”

Marian had to let out a snigger, “Shall I take that as-” She was cut off by grey lips on hers, Herah felt the Champion melt into the contact and they parted all too soon. “A yes?” Marian finished with a goofy smile.

Herah merely smirked back in reply, a few wicked ideas of her own forming. Then suddenly she rose to her feet, lifting Marian with her. Laughing happily, the human wrapped her legs around the qunari and pulled Herah into another kiss.

Herah’s grip was a little awkward and makeshift on Marian as she carried her lover up the stairs, but they made it work. They always did.

 

_The End_

 

Thank you for reading. This has been an on-and-off project over the last 3 years. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing (which was a lot :) ).


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